


What You Always Wanted

by fireworksinthenight



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe, Family, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireworksinthenight/pseuds/fireworksinthenight
Summary: The turtles are free to walk in broad daylight. Free to grasp what they always wanted, free to follow their own path. And if these paths estrange them a little, that's life, isn't it?Except that out of sight doesn't always mean out of mind.





	1. New Life

**Author's Note:**

> _Less time to write but still too many stories in my head. This is one of them._   
>  _Alternate Universe of the turtles’ future. Mainly 2003 verse with a bit of the 2007 and 2012 shows._   
>  _I don’t own the turtles._   
> 

Michelangelo bowed to the cheering crowd. Once again, his one-turtle-show was a huge success.

"Thank you… Thank you…"

He caught the bunch of flowers a particularly bold fangirl was sending his way and flashed her a brilliant smile. She fainted in her boyfriend's arms - a grumpy-looking guy who glared at the turtle on stage.

Michelangelo stifled a chuckle and bowed again. He couldn't blame the man. It must be hard to live in the perpetual shadow of one of the most famous global stars ever.

Who would have guessed that he, Mike, the outcast mutant freak, would have the opportunity to taste such celebrity?

And to think that the now disgraced Agent Bishop was the one to thank for that situation. Without the man's latest experiment and the wave of mutations that followed, he would still be hiding in a sewer.

With a final bow and a backward somersault, Michelangelo disappeared behind the scenes. His manager, a paunchy human named Timothy, immediately hurried after him.

"Mike, you outdid yourself! Our sales of goodies are skyrocketing. Your fans will want a dedication. Could you come to the stadium entrance at once?"

"In a minute, Timmy, I'm going to refresh that face for the ladies," Michelangelo answered, a smug smile on his lips.

Timothy nodded and left him at the doorstep of his dressing room. Michelangelo pushed the door and collapsed in his comfy armchair with a satisfied groan. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, at the sweat droplets falling from his neck, at the smile still plastered on his lips.

His gaze drifted to the picture pinned to the wall, with its four masked turtles grinning at him.

Without a second thought, he took his cell phone and chose a contact.

The answering machine. He would have to leave a message.

Again.

Michelangelo made sure his disappointment didn't show in his voice before he talked.

"Hi Don, it's me. I hope you're not overworking yourself. I've just finished my daily performance, and wow! You should have seen me! Awesome as usual!"

Michelangelo wondered whether he should reiterate his invitation for his genius brother to come and watch his new show, but he knew how busy Donatello's governmental employers kept him.

"I'm going to sign T-shirts and caps now. I'll call you again later, okay?"

Michelangelo hung up. Should he try Raphael next?

He quickly checked the Post-it note Raphael had scribbled for him, noting his shifts of the week, and grimaced when he realized that his brother was working right now.

Better not to disturb him while he was interrogating a suspect, in stake out, or anything else a cop had to do to keep the crime at bay.

Michelangelo tapped the armrests with his fingers, wondering vaguely whether he should try to reach his third brother. Leonardo had no cell phone these days, but he had made clear that Michelangelo could always 'call' him through meditation whenever he wanted to talk… Except said Michelangelo could never remember how the time difference worked, and he didn't want to wake his brother up, and…

Somebody knocked on the door.

"Mike, what are you doing? There will be a riot if you don't show up soon!"

"I'm coming, Timothy, I'm coming!"

Michelangelo stood up and quickly went to the bathroom to wash his face. He had responsibilities as a star, and couldn't disappoint the people who had made him their whole world.

Besides, this was what he had always wanted.

Wasn't it?


	2. Restaurant

Raphael swallowed his hot coffee in record time, hoping that the dark beverage would help him look more awake and half-wondering if his brother Donatello was doing the same in his current lab. Raphael had no idea where it was – apparently, even being from the police wasn't enough to be entrusted with that knowledge.

At least his brother was having the time of his life, being surrounded by geniuses like him.

Raphael checked his watch and put his cup down. It was time to go if he didn't want to be late for his dinner with Mike. His brother had insisted to invite him out in one of the most select restaurants in town.

"Raphael? May I have a word with you?"

The turtle sighed. Of course his boss would want to talk to him at the precise moment he wanted to leave.

"Sure, Detective Kurtzman," he replied nonetheless, his tone just short of outright showing his displeasure.

The middle-aged man smiled, not bothered in the slightest. He was used to the grumpy manners of one of his best officers.

"It won't take long, I promise."

Raphael shrugged and followed Kurtzman to his office. He spoke as soon as the door closed behind them.

"What's so urgent? I promised Mike that I would have dinner with him, and I want to be ahead of time to avoid the paparazzi who seem to follow him everywhere these days."

Kurtzman nodded.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

Raphael lifted an eye ridge. It still felt strange not to feel his mask move with it, but policemen – or policeturtles – didn't wear masks.

"About my dinner? Interested in the menu? I wouldn't have thought so, considering the stuff you put in your sandwiches."

"No, not about the menu. More about the paparazzi you mentioned. You know how delicate your current mission is, right? How secret and sensitive. We don't want to attract unwelcomed attention."

Raphael narrowed his eyes.

"Not my fault if Mike loves being in the spotlight so much. Are you suggesting I should stop seeing him? Because I'm not going to."

Kurtzman sighed.

"I'm merely saying that _you_ should avoid the spotlight. I trust you to find the right way to achieve that goal."

Raphael nodded stiffly.

"Don't worry. I've got tons of experience in that department."

As his boss didn't answer, Raphael gave him a nod and left, his footsteps silent. Kurtzman kept staring at the door which hadn't creaked, even though it was old and wooden and never failed to remind _him_ that it needed oiling, and wondered not for the first time how much of the information he had gathered about his officer's past was true.

* * *

"Do you like it? It's the best in town."

Raphael rolled his eyes at Michelangelo and took another mouthful of his plate. To his relief, the paparazzi had been pushed back outside, and if he focused, he could ignore the presence of the security personal.

It was almost as if he was enjoying a nice one-to-one dinner with his brother.

"How come a major restaurant does the best pizzas in town?" He answered indirectly.

Michelangelo beamed, as though he was expecting that question.

"Because I've hired the chef for that exact purpose, that's how!"

Raphael opened his filled-with-half-chewed-pizza mouth – a disgusting sight that Mike didn't seem to mind – as he realized the implications of that sentence.

"You _own_ that restaurant?"

"I bought it last month, yes."

"You _own_ a restaurant."

The concept was hard to process, and Raphael was trying desperately not to choke on his food.

"Bro, I'm filthy rich. I need to invest my money somewhere, right?"

Raphael nodded dumbly. As a global star, it made sense that his brother would make a great deal of money, but it was the first time that the reality of that statement hit him.

"You're a true businessturtle now, I see," he muttered.

Michelangelo shrugged, suddenly a bit uneasy. Before, he would have teased his brother about being jealous, and rubbed his success in his face – but somehow, it felt inappropriate now.

"It's mostly my manager who deals with the investments, but I've got a few pet projects of my own. It comes with the territory, I guess."

"Hmm."

"Well, a restaurant is useful, right? There is nothing better than food to brighten someone's day – apart from me, of course," Mikey joked.

Something in his tone, something almost pleading, snapped Raphael out of his trance.

"Nothing better than a pizza restaurant for your real estate beginnings, no doubt," he said. "At least we know you've got what it takes to taste the food, right?"

A brief expression of relief passed over Michelangelo's features, rewarding Raphael's effort.

"You got that right."

Raphael smiled wryly and went back to eating his delicious food.

"Now that we're talking about money…" Michelangelo began hesitantly. "You know that if you need anything…"

This time, Raphael didn't manage not to choke on his food.

"Mike, I don't need your money," he protested.

It sounded harsher than he had intended, and Michelangelo looked immediately sheepish.

"I know, I was just… It was just in case."

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks."

The two of them fell silent, an awkward silence Michelangelo quickly broke.

"So. Uh… What are you up to these days?"

Raphael considered the question. He trusted his brother, no doubt, but they weren't exactly alone right now, no matter how much he would have liked it. Besides, he didn't want to cast a shadow over Michelangelo's bright world with the account of the new threats the police was facing.

There had been a time when they would have faced any threats together, as a team.

That time was over.

For the millionth time, Raphael wondered why Leonardo hadn't tried harder to keep them together when it had become clear that mutants were now welcome at the surface of the Earth. Granted, both Don and Mike had been adamant that it was an opportunity to seize – the possibility to fulfill their dreams, at last, even if it meant they would have less or no time for ninjitsu - but they would have accepted Leo's decision, whatever it would have been.

 _We have to flow with change,_ their leader had said. And just like that, their paths had drifted away.

"The usual," Raphael answered. "Boring stuff."

"Come on, bro. I know you're bad at story-telling, but even you can do better than that," Michelangelo protested.

Raphael's phone beeped, sparing him an answer. It was a text from his favorite informer.

_I found another one. You better hurry._

Raphael felt the adrenaline rush in his veins, the promise of a fight as intoxicating as ever for him. _This_ was what he lived for.

"Sorry, Mike, I have to go. It's an emergency."

"Oh. No problem, bro." Michelangelo's cheerful tone didn't entirely mask his disappointment. "Do you need a taxi?"

"Nah, don't worry. See you later, and thanks for the pizza!"

With a wave of his hand, Raphael hurried towards the exit.

Time to go back to business.

* * *

Left alone, Michelangelo frowned. He took Raphael's half-eaten pizza – it would have been a shame to let it go to waste – and finished it, wondering what his brother was hiding from him.

His phone beeped with his notification ringtone. A new article about him had been published. What was it this time? A new ode to his glory? Another enthusiastic tale of a fan who had managed to brush past his shell?

His eyes widened as he read the headline.

' _Renowned showman tries to help destitute brother.'_

Michelangelo found himself praying that Raphael didn't read the gutter press. He had a hunch that his brother wasn't going to appreciate that particular article.


	3. Insomnia

Sitting in the lotus position in the center of his luxurious flat, for once completely silent, Michelangelo forced himself to take slow, deep breathes.

_Focus._

But his mind refused to let go of its thoughts.

Like Raphael's almost relieved expression when he had received that message, and how he had cut their dinner short because of it.

_He's a cop. He's on duty 24 hours a day. It's to be expected._

Or how Donatello wasn't answering his calls, although he _had_ sent a text.

 _I'm so going to complain when I'_ _ll_ _finally have him on the phone. We haven't talked in days, does he really think that he can get away with_ 'Don't worry I'm fine, just really busy right now – will get in touch with you later' _?_

Tonight was one of _these_ nights, when the knowledge of his numerous achievements and the thrill of his new life weren't enough to keep the melancholy at bay. The feeling would pass – it always did – but there was waiting idly and there was taking matters in hand, and speaking to his family always made everything so much easier…

If Raphael hadn't had to leave, their conversation would have warmed up and he, Mikey, would now be feeling worlds better. Or if Donatello had called him back instead of texting him…

And why didn't Leo have a phone, already?

Ah yes. Because he was hardly in this dimension anymore, and the inter-dimensional phone network wasn't exactly in perfect running order.

 _Come on, mind, shut up,_ Michelangelo scolded himself _. Let me find_ inner peace _and_ balance _and all that gibberish, so I can discuss with at least one of my brothers tonight!_

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Michelangelo resisted the urge to scratch his arms. He had never liked staying still.

Breathe in…

Usually, it didn't take that long.

Breathe out…

Leo would be happy to have news, that was for sure. He would rejoice to learn how successful Mikey was…

_When was the last time I actually talked to him?_

With a lump in his throat, Michelangelo realized that days added up to weeks.

Breaaaaathe in…

Breaaaaathe out…

"It's useless!" the turtle shouted, jumping on his feet and clenching his fists. "I can't do it!"

One of his bodyguards was quick to come inside.

"Sir, is everything alright?"

Michelangelo gave a bitter chuckle.

_No. I'm unable to reach two of my brothers, and the third had to leave in a hurry._

"Yes, I'm sorry. I was just training my voice."

He stretched and yawned with exaggerated moves.

"I'll go to bed now. See you in the morning!"

Everything would look better in the morning.

* * *

Maybe everything would look better in the morning, but tonight was one of _these_ nights, and even his king-sized bed was helpless to offer him sleep. So Michelangelo had gone for a nocturnal stroll – all alone, which hadn't happened in a long while.

Going unnoticed past his bodyguards had been an easy feat. He hadn't practiced ninjitsu in a while, but you didn't forget that easily a training that had lasted more than a decade and a half.

Michelangelo was moving at fast speed, enjoying the night breeze on his skin. He jumped across rooftops, slid on street lamps, ran in sewers…

Before he noticed where he was going, he found himself in front of the lair's door.

Michelangelo stopped dead in his tracks. It was the first time he came back since his father had left the place… But now that he was there…

He would just take a quick look down memory lane.

* * *

The lair was deserted, which wasn't a surprise. Donatello and Leonardo weren't in New York City anymore, and both Raphael and Michelangelo had their own flats. Still, it looked tidier than Michelangelo would have thought.

Almost as if someone came regularly to do the cleaning. Michelangelo knew for a fact it wasn't him, which left Raphael.

_He never told me._

The turtle didn't dwell at length on the thought. Now that he was there, he felt irresistibly drawn to the dojo.

There. There they were. Neatly put in the weapons' rack, next to Donatello's bo staff. Raphael had kept his sai, and of course Leonardo had taken his katana, but Michelangelo had left his weapons behind.

His dangerous, deadly, beloved weapons.

Which happened to be in complete contradiction with the image of the easy-going and children-friendly turtle he wanted to give…

At least that was what everyone in the show business had said.

Michelangelo resisted the impulse to grab his nunchucks, to swirl and launch them like he used to.

The past was in the past. He had chosen the light, not the shadows.

Ninja no more.

Michelangelo bit his lip and left the room, away from the tempting items. He wandered through the rest of his former home, marveling at how familiar it still felt. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that everybody was here and asleep, and in a moment the rooms would fill with life and laughter as their daily routine began…

The turtle ground his teeth, repelling the thought.

_Okay. Memory lane is not helping. Time to go home – emphasis on the word 'home'._

As Michelangelo walked towards the entrance, he noticed a large poster displayed on Donatello's former desk. Curious, he came closer. It was, in fact, a city map – a city map where arrows and circles had been drawn with a marker.

The ink of one of the circles was still fresh. Once again, Michelangelo knew for a fact he wasn't responsible for it. He narrowed his eyes.

_What are you up to, Raphie-boy?_

"It's so unfair that you keep secrets from me," he said out loud. "I tell you everything!"

The turtle crossed his arms, his eyes shining with mischief. Now he was certain that he wouldn't get any sleep tonight, which meant he had to entertain himself somehow. What if his next stop happened to be at the exact location Raphael had so neatly pointed out?

It would be a pure accident, of course.

But still… what if it was dangerous?

Michelangelo couldn't help grinning.

_Who am I kidding? It's Raph, of course it'll be dangerous._

Which meant it would be unwise to go unarmed, wouldn't it?

Still grinning, Michelangelo went back to the dojo, took his nunchucks and slid them in his belt.

_Just for tonight._


	4. Wasp Nest

Raphael's bike raced through the night. It was the best means of transport a turtle could have hoped for: fast, easy to handle, able to blend in.

A gift from his brother Donatello.

Raphael smiled at the memory. Over the years, he had learned everything he could about engines and mechanics, most of it from Don. It was easy for him to keep the old bike in top shape.

He had stopped at the old lair to retrieve his bike and gear up. He had also taken another look at the map he had created, adding the new location his informer had given him and trying to discern a pattern.

Without success. Maybe Donatello would have inferred something, but to Raphael, the locations were random.

Now he was hurrying to reach the meeting place, a dark alleyway particularly convenient for plotting.

"You took your sweet time."

Raphael stopped the bike and got off it, removing his black helmet to greet the purple-haired woman in front of him.

"I had to escape Mikey's paparazzi first. And I had to retrieve this baby at the lair."

Angel lifted an eyebrow at the turtle in his black suit.

"I still don't understand why you don't keep it closer to you. Doesn't your flat have a garage?"

Raphael crossed indignant arms.

"There is no way I'll let my bike sleep in a mere garage! At least in the lair, Don's security system is still in place."

Angel stifled a chuckle and shook her head, getting back to the matter at hand. She pointed at an apartment block.

"Alright, that's the place I told you about. I saw two of them coming inside earlier in the evening. It was mere luck, really. I had business in this part of the city, and I was coming home when I spotted them."

Raphael's eyes narrowed as he looked at the unremarkable building.

"And you're certain they're members of the Humans Are Too Entitled gang?"

Under that name hid one of the most dangerous anti-human groups. The mutant outbreak hadn't been to everybody's liking; racism and rejection had been, and still were, common reactions. The non-discrimination laws weren't always enforced with the necessary impartiality, and a few mutants harbored a true hatred towards humankind.

As a police officer and a mutant himself, Raphael had been entrusted with the very delicate mission to prevent these ill-advised people from wreaking havoc on the city. However, finding their various hideouts wasn't an easy feat.

Angel gave the turtle a deadpan look, offended that he would question her input. She had begun working for him when his best friend and most trusted ally, Casey Jones, had had to leave the city. So far, their cooperation had been fruitful – she really liked the grumpy and sarcastic turtle, and the liberties he didn't hesitate to take with the law if the situation called for it. On his side, Raphael appreciated her boldness and her determination, and her ability to engage in shady dealings was invaluable.

_Good thing she's on our side._

"They were hiding and carrying illegal weapons," Angel explained. "And I recognized one of them…"

Raphael glanced at her. Something in her tone made him wary.

"It was Slash," she whispered, knowing how the news would impact her partner-in-crime.

Raphael clenched his fists. It wasn't the first time he had to deal with the giant spiky mutant. A turtle, just like him – except he didn't have any scruples, unlike him. Nobody knew how Slash had been mutated or what had happened since, but he nourished a destructive anger against all humans. Last time, Slash had attempted to trap a shopping mall with explosives – and if Raphael hadn't been there, hundreds of people might have lost their lives. Unfortunately, Slash had escaped.

 _He won't escape me this time,_ Raphael thought somberly, his hands grasping the hilts of his twin sai. Despite being officially allowed to wear a gun, he preferred his good old-fashioned weapons for solo missions like this – Angel's involvement wasn't official.

"Alright," he said. "Who was the second mutant?"

"A short gecko. I've never seen him before."

"A gecko?" Raphael shook his head. No such mutant in his files. "Maybe a new recruit. That can't be good. If he's half as dangerous as Slash…"

Raphael didn't complete his sentence, letting his grim expression speak for him.

"So what do we do?" Angel asked. "Do we arrest them?"

" _You_ arrest nobody," Raphael grumbled. "I'm the only cop here. And members of the Humans Are Too Entitled gang? You're way out of your league, Angel. I'll handle them."

Angel snorted.

"Keep saying yourself that. You would never have found this place without me."

"And I'm thankful to you, but if it comes to one-to-one combat…"

"I can take care of myself."

Angel's tone was only mildly annoyed. Obviously, it wasn't the first time that they had this conversation.

Raphael stifled a sigh – when did he become the voice of reason, anyways? He knew it was a lost cause – and tried once more.

"I don't want you to get injured."

Angel merely shrugged.

"Me neither, you know. So, what's the plan?"

Raphael considered the question. Maybe he could give her a harmless role. Ask her to stand guard on his bike? _No, she'd kill me. What would Leo do in a situation like this?_

"Alright. I need you to…uh…" _An idea an idea an idea… Yes! I know!_ "…Stand guard outside and whistle if anybody arrives while I'm investigating."

He kept a straight face, hoping Angel wouldn't complain. The purple-haired woman narrowed her eyes, wondering whether or not he was trying to trick her. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and nodded.

 _Raph, you're a genius,_ the relieved turtle silently congratulated himself.

"In the meantime, I'll sneak inside and see what they are up to." Another page out of Leonardo's book. _And then I'll beat Slash up until he can't stand, and drag him to the nearest police station before calling my boss. Perfect plan._

Raphael avoided saying that last part out loud, though, and he grinned innocently at Angel's suspicious look.

"Reckon only? That's what you have in mind?"

"Absolutely. Unless an opportunity presents itself, of course."

"Of course," Angel repeated. Somehow, she didn't seem convinced.

"Let's go," Raphael quickly said, not wanting her to concentrate on that topic. "They won't stay in there forever. Remember: you whistle once if you spot a citizen and twice if it's a new gang member."

Angel reluctantly nodded, and both of them fell silent as they began moving towards the apartment block.

* * *

Once he was certain that Angel was staying safely posted outside, Raphael focused on investigating the building. The stairs were narrow, almost too narrow for a mutant as big as Slash…

_Hmm…_

Raphael came closer to the walls and examined them. The plaster was scratched in places.

_Yes. His spikes left traces… They walked up the stairs._

With cautious moves, the cop turtle began climbing up, following the trail left by Slash. He was listening intently – the building was old and the walls very thin, he could hear the innocent noises of dishes being washed and beds cracking, and even snoring here and there…

The trail ended in front of a wooden door identical to every other door in the apartment block. Raphael nodded with a satisfied smirk and noted the location of the flat behind. He was about to walk up to the rooftop and see if he could enter by a window when he heard Angel whistle once. Raphael froze and waited.

Angel whistled twice and the turtle swore under his breath, looking for a hiding place. By chance, if the stairs were narrow, the ceiling was high. Raphael quickly climbed up and used one hand and both legs to keep in place while his other hand grabbed his sai.

Angel whistled a third time, and Raphael frowned. Had she seen an innocent citizen and a gang member enter the building? Or three innocent citizens, at such an insane hour in the night? _A signaling code must have only one possible interpretation,_ he imagined Leo saying. _Or confusion ensues._ Raphael pictured himself lifting an imaginary eyebrow at his imaginary brother. _But, Leo, it was never supposed to be used in the first place! It was just a trick to keep Angel away from the bad big spiky mutant boss!_

"Raphie! You there? What a nice surprise!"

Raphael almost tumbled down at hearing the voice of another brother in his ear – a non-imaginary one this time, whom he hadn't heard coming and who was hanging from the ceiling right next to him.

And on top of that, who had the nerve to grin at him.

"Mike!" Raphael forced himself to whisper, when what he really wanted to do was shout. Right in the ear of this annoying brother of his. "What are you doing here?"

Michelangelo's grin disappeared, replaced by a grim expression.

"Dude, what are _you_ doing here? This building is bound to be demolished soon. The foundations are weakened, it could collapse at the slightest tremor. People have been relocated."

Raphael frowned, his irritation replaced by confusion.

"Ridiculous. I've heard noises behind the doors… And how would you know that?"

Michelangelo shrugged.

"I've considered buying the site," he said briefly. "And I don't know what you've heard, but the building's tenants are all gone by now."

Raphael's mind raced. This didn't make any sense. He _had_ heard noises behind the doors… And Angel had seen Slash and his companion enter…

Which didn't make any sense, either.

_If that building is as dangerous as Mike says, why would Slash choose it as his hideout?_

Unless…

Unless it was a trap.


	5. Breaking Down

"It's a trap! We have to get out of there!" Raphael shouted, having come to the conclusion that silence wasn't useful anymore. It probably never had been – he must have been watched since the very beginning.

Michelangelo rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, relieved that his brother wasn't going to argue.

"That's exactly what I've been telling you!"

Raphael dropped to the stairs. He was in front of the wooden door once again, and he hesitated. Even if it was a trap, the trail led here. Slash had to be behind that door. The spiky turtle was crazy, but not crazy enough that he would collapse an entire building on himself… would he?

Of course, he was probably heavily armed, and maybe he had accomplices behind the other doors. It would be a shell of a fight, but Raphael had always been good in a brawl.

"Raph! What are you doing, bro?" Michelangelo whispered, taking Raphael's arm to lead him downstairs. "Let's go!"

Raphael turned to look at his brother, torn apart. He didn't want to lose the opportunity to arrest Slash – the mutant was too dangerous to be left free – but he couldn't risk Michelangelo's safety. Granted, his brother was carrying his nunchucks, which hadn't happened in a long time and meant that he was ready to fight. But who knew how long it had been since he had properly trained?

"Let's go," Raphael repeated, stifling a groan. Why did Michelangelo have to follow him, especially that night? And how had he found him, anyways?

As the two brothers hurtled down, Raphael watched the scratches in the plaster with regret. Who knew when he would have such a clean trail again, proving without the shadow of a doubt that Slash had been climbing up the stairs here?

Climbing up…

With a pang, Raphael realized that it wasn't the only possibility.

_Or going down. Backwards. Why didn't I think of this sooner?_

If Slash had retraced his steps, maybe he was, in fact, hiding in one of the lower flats. Maybe he wasn't in the building anymore – but why wouldn't Angel have warned him, then?

In any case, it couldn't be good.

"Hurry, Mikey!"

"What? You're the one who trailed be-"

Before Michelangelo had a chance to end his sentence, the world around them exploded.

* * *

Angel was hiding in the shadow of a fire escape, keeping the apartment block in sight. She hadn't believed her eyes when she had seen Michelangelo enter the building after Raphael. She has whistled three times, hoping that her business partner would understand – they hadn't decided of a code for family members.

Angel felt shivers run down her spine and shook her head. Maybe she should have put warmer clothes on, but her current outfit was so convenient…

 _But it wasn't that cold._ _Maybe I'm just tired of waiting. I could be so much more useful inside._

Angel was beginning to wonder if maybe, Raphael had tricked her, when she spotted two shadows exiting the building.

A short, gecko-like shadow, and a big, spiky one. Angel's heart sank.

_Slash? Did Raph miss him?_

She had to warn him. She prepared to whistle when she realized that the shadows were hurrying towards her. Stifling a gasp, she began retreating silently – they couldn't know she was there, could they?

"Going somewhere?"

Apparently, they could. Angel hesitated. Should she run or stand her ground?

Slash made the decision when he dashed towards her, cutting off her retreat. The shorter mutant hurried after his partner. Angel slowly straightened up, doing her best to appear casual.

"Yes, actually, I am."

She yawned, keeping her eyes on Slash. She knew how dangerous he was – Raphael had showed his files to her. She didn't know the other mutant.

"I'm going to bed. Right now."

Slash grinned. It wasn't a pleasant sight.

"You should have stayed there, girl," he mused.

The gecko mutant reached them and bent over, putting his hands on his knees and apparently out of breath.

"You're sooo fast, Slash," he whispered, his tongue sticking out.

He took a look at Angel and immediately straightened up.

"Hello, girl. It's nice to meet you. I'm Mondo, the favorite of you ladies…"

Angel opened her mouth, incredulous. Was he _flirting_ with her?

Slash spared her an answer by swatting the gecko's head.

"What are you doing?"

"You said 'time to get engaged to the enemy'!" The gecko protested, rubbing his head.

Slash sighed, a long-suffering sigh that almost made him sound like a benevolent elder.

"I said 'time to engage the enemy'".

"Oh."

Angel watched them both, hoping that their dispute could give her an opportunity to sneak out, but Slash's eyes weren't leaving her. This didn't bode well.

"Well, nice to meet you too, Mondo," she answered. "See you later!"

She pretended to leave, but Slash extended his giant hand and grabbed her shirt, lifting her a few feet. She dangled and tried to kick his plastron.

"Not so fast," the giant turtle spat. "You know I don't like humans, do you? Especially not humans who spy on me."

Angel stopped kicking. It was only hurting her anyways. Instead, she pushed a small button on her belt, sending a wave of electricity through her carefully designed shirt. Her own skin was protected by a layer of insulating material, but Slash shouted and let her go. She scrambled to her feet and ran away.

Or at least she would have run away if the gecko hadn't coiled his disgusting tongue around her left ankle. She trampled on it, causing Mondo to release her with a pained cry. Unfortunately, it had bought Slash time, and the giant turtle had already recovered.

"You'll regret this, girl," he said, grabbing her again, this time by the ankle, his hand in contact with her skin and avoiding her shirt. Angel found herself upside-down, and manifested her unhappiness by a few well-thought insults. She tried to use her brass knuckles, but they didn't even scratch him.

Slash glared at her.

"You're almost as displeasing as your partner," he spat. "That one has been a thorn in my flesh for too long. I would kill you alongside him, but I've an even better idea."

Slash nodded to Mondo, who looked at him with a perplexed expression. Slash sighed again.

"Take the remote in my belt, and present it to me," he said.

Mondo shrugged and did as he was told. The remote in question had only one button.

A glowing red one.

Grabbing Angel's forefinger as delicately as he could despite her fighting, Slash slowly, lovingly used it to push the button.

The explosion deafened her, and the shock wave sent her flying against the wall – _at least he finally let go of me,_ she thought – and then she realized that the apartment block in front of her was collapsing on itself.

Floor after floor.

With Raphael and Michelangelo still inside.

"You monster!" Angel shouted, not bothering to hold back her tears. She tried to stand up, but she felt too dizzy.

"That's what they all say," Slash nodded, his grin back.

* * *

Michelangelo was having the nicest dream. He was running on the rooftops, eating a huge pizza, while his three brothers chased after him.

"You're way too slow, guys!" He shouted. "Too bad, I'll have to eat this delicious pepperoni pizza on my own."

"Mike! Mike, come back!"

There was an urgency in Leo's voice that surprised his brother.

"Come on, Leo, it's just pizza. No need to get all riled up," he protested, still running.

He prepared to jump to the next rooftop…

And suddenly there was no rooftop anymore, only darkness…

_Mike! Wake up!_

Soothing darkness… engulfing him… so nice…

_Michelangelo!_

The aforementioned turtle was startled awake.

"Leo, I was trying to sleep," he immediately protested, opening his eyes.

Uh. When had the world become pitch black?

And why was every part of his body aching?

"Great. He has finally lost his head," a voice said somewhere on his left.

Its sarcasm didn't manage to entirely cover the relief.

"Raph?"

"Yes. That's my name, not Leo. Leo is the one with the blue mask and the katana, remember? Not that you could see that anyways, granted."

The last remnants of Michelangelo's strange dream were already escaping him. The turtle tried to move, and found that he was trapped under a kind of concrete tent. He could only crawl a few feet.

He did feel Raphael's body not far from him, though, and latched on to him.

Just to make sure his brother was alright.

Said brother groaned, but didn't try to dislodge him.

"Careful, Mike."

"Raph, what happened?"

Raphael's voice was trembling slightly. From rage or something else, Michelangelo didn't know.

"We were too slow. The entire building collapsed on us."

Michelangelo blinked.

"So, are we dead? I had pictured death as… less painful. And brighter. And more spacious. You see, with green meadows and rainbows and little white clouds everywhere…"

Raphael sighed.

"No. The walls collapsed on each other and protected us."

"Oh. Good."

Silence.

"We're stuck, aren't we?"

"… Yes."


	6. Chit-Chat

"At least we're stuck together, Raphie. It has been such a long time since we were that close! Isn't it great?"

"Shut up."

"Because, you know, we got rudely interrupted at dinner. You didn't even finish your pizza! And I must say, you didn't need to be in such a hurry to end up under tons of concrete..."

"I said shut up, Mike."

"…tons of concrete that could finish the job any time and smash us…"

"You're not helping, you know that, right?"

"That is, if the lack of oxygen doesn't kill us first…"

There was a silence. Raphael considered repeating that it wasn't helping – he knew their situation wasn't brilliant, did his brother really need to point it out?

 _Denying facts never helps,_ he pictured Donatello saying. _A true scientist relies on reality to inspire him and provide him with solutions to his problems._

 _Don, I'm stuck under tons of concrete. With Mike. I wouldn't say reality is inspiring right now,_ he protested in his head.

And it was all his fault. Why hadn't he understood sooner that it was a trap? Why had he underestimated Slash?

Oh, how he wanted to be face-to-face with him right now. He would unleash a fury like the world had never seen before, he would beat the so-called tough guy to a pulp, he would…

Michelangelo was still silent. Raphael patted his shell in a gesture that he hoped was reassuring – I've got your back, bro, you're not alone – and started when his brother began shouting at the top of his lungs.

"HELLO? SOMEBODY HERE?"

"Mike, shut up! Slash will hear you!" Raphael whispered angrily. "Do you really want to let him know that we're not dead?"

Michelangelo shook his head in a _I-couldn't-care-less_ manner, and Raphael prepared himself to convince him – hopefully without violence, it couldn't be a good idea to smack his brother right now, no matter how tempting - but a loud rumble and the fall of a few more debris on their heads efficiently conveyed the message that shouting was, indeed, prohibited.

"Then what do we do?" Michelangelo asked. He was whispering this time. "My phone has been smashed, and it's not like we would get a signal down here anyway!"

Raphael sighed, and tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at his insides. Michelangelo should never have been there with him. Why had he followed him precisely tonight?

"My phone has been smashed too. Well, I guess all we can do is wait. Angel is still outside – hopefully she'll look for us."

"Oh yeah, Angel! Great idea! Let's just hope she doesn't think we're dead."

Both turtles fell silent again.

* * *

Angel tried to focus her vision in spite of the veil of her tears. Why had Slash left her alive? He was going to regret it. She wouldn't rest until she had found him and made him pay.

_Raph. Mike._

She had been the one to send them to their deaths. In a corner of her mind, she knew it wasn't her fault, but the guilt was still overwhelming.

What was she going to tell Casey?

 _Don't let this hothead get himself killed,_ he had half-joked with her when she had volunteered to help Raphael.

And she had done just that.

She had done just that…

She wiped away her tears in an enraged gesture, trying again to get on her feet. This time, it worked. She was still staggering, but…

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

Angel turned to the person who had the nerve to ask such a stupid question. It was the gecko mutant, Mondo. She would have jumped to his throat right away if she had trusted her legs.

"Why do you care?" She spat. "You wanted them dead! And now they are!"

"It's… it's a necessary evil, that's what Slash says," Mondo answered hesitantly. "He was on the bad side, and… why are you saying 'them'? He was alone."

"No he wasn't," Angel sniffled. She couldn't believe that the teenager – at least that's how her mind pictured him now, he looked so young and lost – trusted Slash's word. "His brother was with him."

She could say it now that it didn't matter anymore. Let that mutant know exactly the damage he had done.

Mondo blinked.

"What? I… I wasn't aware of that. He had a brother?"

_Three, actually. You better run fast when the two remaining ones learn about your role tonight._

And what about hers? She dismissed the thought, upset.

"Yes, he had. Mike. Loyal, fun-loving Mike."

Who happened to be a worldwide celebrity. How many people would be impacted by his death? Millions?

She realized that she had talked aloud when she saw Mondo's expression.

"Mi-mi-mi-mike? As in, _that_ Mike?" He stammered, taking his phone and showing her picture after picture of Michelangelo.

She nodded numbly.

"I-I-I'm his biggest fan!" Mondo went on. "Wh-wh-why do you say he's there? Why do you say he's dead?"

Mondo advanced towards her, fists clenched. She decided that she had recovered enough and kicked him between the legs. He gasped and doubled over.

"You killed him! He was crushed when you collapsed that building on him!" She shouted.

"Noooooo!" Mondo lamented, his long tongue swirling in the air. His eyes suddenly widened. "He's alive!"

Angel grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

"I wish he was! I wish they both were!"

"N-no, I mean I can s-sense him! With my tongue!"

Angel gaped, her hands still firmly around his neck.

"What are you talking about? You better speak fast!"

"I-attend-every-show-I-can! I-have-the-most-sensitive-tongue, I-know-how-he-smells-like! He's-alive, I-swear-it!"

Angel released the gecko, her heart beating faster as hope washed over it.

"You better tell the truth," she threatened.

* * *

Michelangelo felt utterly aware of how confined the space was. If he extended his left arm, he could touch the concrete… he couldn't even extend his right arm, the collapsed wall was too close… His toes were grazing a pile of debris, and he knew he couldn't stand up, he couldn't even crouch.

"Raph, I don't feel so well," he whispered.

At his side, Raphael tensed.

"Mike, if you throw up in there, I'll have to strangle you. Fair warning."

"I can't help it!" Michelangelo whined.

Raphael took a deep cleansing breath. At least he was able to do that – air must be conveyed to them through cracks and slits.

"Calm down, Mike," he whispered as soothingly as he could. "It's not different from all the times we've been trapped underground, remember? You just have to relax."

"I've kind of got used to vaster spaces since then," Michelangelo grumbled. "Do you know how many rooms my flat has? Or how large they make the stage just for me? Or…"

"I get it, Mike, but you haven't forgotten how it was, have you?

 _When we were ninja, and unwelcomed, and together,_ he didn't say out loud.

Michelangelo forced himself to focus on his breathing. In and out. In and out. Raphael was right. It wasn't the first time he was forced to wait in a very uncomfortable position. He had always made it through.

"Relax," Raphael repeated. "Excellent, Mi – _are you serious?_ "

Raphael pinched his flat nostrils in outrage and nudged his brother right in his sensitive side.

"You said relax!" Michelangelo protested, an amused note in his tone. "Besides, it's just air."

* * *

Angel hurried to the building, dragging Mondo along. She hoped Slash had left for real, but she didn't have the time to dwell on the possibility he hadn't. The police would be here soon anyways - the explosion and ensuing collapse of an apartment block couldn't have gone unnoticed – and her priority was to rescue the turtle brothers.

"Where are they?" She demanded.

Mondo turned his head at impossible angles, his tongue searching through the night.

"Down there," he said, pointing at a pile of debris.

Angel rolled up her sleeves.

"Then let's start digging. And be careful not to bring anything down."

"Don't worry, Ma'am," Mondo answered with determination. "I'm very good at pick-up-sticks games."

Angel shook her head.

* * *

"Mike? Mikey! Don't fall asleep! I'm pretty sure you hit your head earlier. You have to stay awake!"

"Hmmm," Michelangelo grumbled. "Spoilsport."

Raphael sighed. It looked like he would have to make conversation. It usually kept his talkative brother awake.

"So, uh… You didn't tell me how you found me. Have you been following me?"

On second thought, maybe it wasn't the best way to begin, but at least he was trying. It counted for something, right?

"Nooo," Michelangelo answered sulkily. "Couldn't sleep at the time, went for a walk. Spotted you."

Raphael was pretty sure it wasn't the entire truth, but he didn't feel like prying. He felt bad enough for pushing his brother to stay awake.

"I'm surprised you went for a walk alone."

Michelangelo snickered.

"I sneaked out, just like old times."

"Won't your bodyguards be worried?"

"Probably, once they notice I'm gone. Which shouldn't happen until morning. Then, of course, every police in this country will be on my case."

"You're kidding, right?"

"That's the price of success."

Michelangelo's tone was slightly melancholic. Raphael frowned.

"Mike, are you alright?"

"Of course. Never been brighter in my entire life. Are you?"

"Forget it. It was a stupid question."

Michelangelo chuckled before sighing.

"Raph?" He asked, his voice almost inaudible. "Remember when we swore we would stay in touch, no matter what?"

"Yes?"

"What happened to us?"

"What do you mean?" Raphael answered hesitantly.

"I mean I've been trying to talk to Don for days now, and he only texted me. He only _texted_ me! Donatello! And…"

Michelangelo hesitated. He hadn't wanted Raphael to know, but it was weighing more and more on him.

"And what?" Raphael prompted, gently.

"And I'm unable to reach Leo. I c-can't… I can't meditate properly anymore."

Michelangelo's words were full of shame. He expected Raphael to soothe him, to tell him it didn't matter, it would come back, Leo would forgive him, Leo wasn't going to be mad at him to begin with.

He didn't expect to hear Raphael's grumpy answer.

"Want his phone number?"

Michelangelo straightened up, hitting his head in the process. He groaned in pain and lay again, taking his brother's face between his hands as if he could see something.

"You have Leo's phone number? Leo has a phone? Why didn't you tell me?"

Raphael coughed a bit and pushed Michelangelo's hands away.

"It's recent. There was this reunion for international police cooperation in Japan last week, you know, and it turned out that Leo was in the area, and well, as he intended to stay in Japan for a while, it made sense he would buy one, right?"

_Plus I might have dragged him to the closest shop. The guy relies too heavily on meditation, it's unhealthy._

"Why didn't you tell me?" Michelangelo repeated, outraged.

"I was sure he was going to tell you himself," Raphael said defensively. "Besides, I didn't want you to know I wasn't able to meditate as well as I used to, okay? I had no idea you weren't either!"

"It's stupid," Michelangelo muttered, forgetting that he had said nothing earlier for this very reason.

"Yeah, whatever," Raphael sighed, letting the insult drop. "So, want his phone number or not?"

"You bet. He better have an unlimited international plan."

Raph snorted.

"He does. I made sure of that."

* * *

Angel looked at Mondo. The gecko mutant was doing a good job, she had to admit – and he hadn't complained once.

"Why are you following someone like Slash?" She asked, genuinely curious.

Mondo shrugged, making his way through yet another pile of debris.

"He was nice to me. He took me in when my parents threw me out."

Despite being mad at him, Angel felt for him. Maybe, if Raphael and Michelangelo were alive as he pretended, she could find it in her heart to forgive him.

"Do you think he's going to arrest me?" he asked her out of the blue.

Angel blinked.

"Who? Raph?"

"Yes. He's a cop, isn't he?"

"Maybe. But believe me, you'll still be better off in prison than with Slash."

"You don't know what you're saying," Mondo whispered. "Prisons… aren't a good place for mutants."

Angel frowned. His gaze was haunted. Was he talking from experience?

"Raph is a good cop. He'll be fair," she tried to soothe him.

They kept working in silence for a few minutes, until Angel asked him another question.

"Why are you helping me, if you're so afraid of getting arrested?

Mondo shrugged.

"I told you, I'm Mike's biggest fan. I can't leave him here. You know… Watching his show really helped me out. I owe him that much, especially…" He swallowed hard. "Especially as it's my fault if he's there."

"You're courageous," Angel muttered. "I'll grant you that."

* * *

Michelangelo yawned, and Raphael shook him slightly.

"Raph, let me sleep. Please?"

"No, Mike, I'm sorry. It's not happening. You have to stay awake!"

Michelangelo stuck his tongue out at his brother, and Raphael raised an eye ridge, unimpressed.

Before he realized that he could _see_ his brother stuck his tongue out at him.

There was light!

"Raph! Mike!"

"Angel?" Raphael answered, barely daring to hope. "Angel, we're here!"

"We know! Don't move!"

"I didn't intend to," Raphael answered wryly. "Who's with you?"

"…It's a long story. Let's get you out of there!"

"Yes, finally! Way to go, Angel!" Michelangelo cheered.

Raphael frowned. He had an inkling he wasn't going to like that particular story.

A few minutes later, both brothers were safely out. Michelangelo stretched and grinned.

"Sweet night! Sweet space! Sweet surface! How I've missed you!"

Mondo was at his side in one second, beaming as if it was the best day of his life.

"May I touch you, please, Sir? I need to make sure you're real."

Michelangelo grinned.

"Sure, dude. I'm in the best of moods. I'm alive, I can move, and I'll soon make the longest phone call of all times. I'll even give you a hug if you want."

As he did as he had said, Raphael clenched his fists. Unlike Michelangelo, he had recognized the gecko mutant as Slash's sidekick.

"You!" He roared. "I'm going to destroy you!"

"Raph, he helped me," Angel pleaded, putting a hand on Raphael's arm. "Listen to his story first, and then you'll decide what to do, okay?"

"Fine," Raphael gritted out. "Give me your phone, I need to call my boss. I'm surprised my colleagues aren't already there, by the way."

Angel shrugged and handed over her phone.

"They'll arrive soon, no doubt. We did as fast as we could."

"And you've my gratitude for that, Angel. Thanks."

Next to them, Mondo seemed over the moon and completely unable to process Raphael's presence. It was only when Michelangelo released him to hug Angel that he seemed to notice the other turtle.

"And you must be the destitute brother," he beamed, having apparently forgotten he was afraid of being arrested by said destitute brother. "Nice to meet you too! You must be so overjoyed to have an amazing brother like Mike!"

Raphael gaped, blinked, then looked at Angel. She smirked.

"Apparently, the gutter press struck again."

Raphael looked at the screen Mondo was proudly showing him.

"Excuse me? _Renowned showman tries to help destitute brother?"_ He asked, detaching the words as if they had a nasty taste.

Michelangelo looked at his fuming brother and took a careful step backwards. Followed by many, many more careful steps.

"Mike, come back here!"

"Don't be too harsh on him," Angel chuckled, finally allowing relief to overwhelm her. "It's not really his fault, and besides, his fame saved your life tonight."

"Yeah, maybe," Raphael admitted. "But I need the exercise. Besides, it'll keep Mike awake."


	7. Over the Seas

"Master Leonardo?"

Leonardo opened his eyes to look at one of the new recruits he was supposed to be training. The man was looking at him in concern, obviously not understanding why his teacher had suddenly stopped focusing on his students to sit down and meditate on the spot.

Especially as that spot was right in the center of the free-for-all that had been the ongoing exercise. Leonardo noticed that he had various weapons on his lap. He must have subconsciously taken them from the Foot soldiers who had been fighting too close to him, while focusing on an entirely, and far more important, matter.

"Master, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Leonardo answered, although he was far from it.

He couldn't forget the panic that had seized him when he had sensed Michelangelo's spirit dwindle and almost fade away, as if… as if…

_What could have happened?_

He had called him, ordered – _begged_ \- him to wake up, desperately, and even though he was pretty sure Michelangelo hadn't been really conscious of Leonardo's presence, he had responded to his brother's call.

_Mike._

Whatever had happened to Michelangelo didn't threaten his life anymore – Leonardo could feel his brother's presence in the spiritual world, strong again as it should be, along with Raphael's and Donatello's. Always present in his mind, whether or not they were aware of it, no matter how far away from them through time and space he was.

Leonardo knew how capable and strong his brothers all were, and that they could fend for themselves. The fact that one of them had been so close to… _leave_ … was extremely unsettling.

Especially as Michelangelo's life wasn't supposed to be as dangerous as his younger years had been. Even Raphael, who worked as a cop and had his fair share of fights – Leonardo was sure of it, even if his brother had a tendency to minimize the danger and kept saying that everything was under control – had never been so close to…

_Die._

Close calls like that belonged to a time he had thought passed, at least for them. He couldn't say the same for himself. During his time at the Battle Nexus, he had travelled to unknown worlds for the Daimyo; he had also fought alongside his friend Usagi more often than not, and both activities could be considered as dangerous, to say the least.

"Master Leonardo, what happened?"

Leonardo snapped back to the present.

_I wish I knew._

He was spared an answer by the arrival of a dark-haired armored woman, moving swiftly despite her enormous belly. She was closely followed by a man who was trying to offer her his arm – in vain.

"Leonardo, what is the matter?"

The turtle watched the heavily pregnant leader of the Foot with concern, noting her husband's – Chaplin - agitation.

"Karai. Weren't you supposed to rest?"

"Yes she was," Chaplin inserted. "My love, this is unreasonable."

Karai dismissed his concern with a shake of her head.

"I am pregnant, not sick, and I'll do as I see fit," she told him firmly – although fondly - before looking back at Leonardo and waving at the Foot soldiers in the room. "They called me. Saying you were in a deep trance and they didn't know what to do."

Leonardo narrowed his eyes at his students, who bowed and muttered panicked apologies.

"You're dismissed," he told them, not wanting to lose time reprimanding them for panicking. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Something happened to one of my brothers," Leonardo told Karai. "I need to know what it was."

Karai had crossed her hands on her stomach, her stance as graceful and deadly as ever, while Chaplin was watching her like a hawk, obviously wondering if it had been a good idea to design for her a shining armor adapted to her temporary condition.

Taking his phone, Leonardo tried to call Raphael – to no avail.

"Which one?" Karai asked calmly.

"Mike."

"The star?" Chaplin said, taking his own phone and searching the web. "There are lots of articles about him, but nothing out of the ordinary." He tilted his head, his tone suddenly curious. "Apart from… Do you have a destitute brother?"

Leonardo lifted an eye ridge, curious in spite of his concern.

"Not that I know of," he answered, taking a look at the article in question.

_I wonder how Raph took it,_ he mused before noticing the date. _It was today. Was Mike with him when it happened? Was he involved too? Why isn't he answering his phone?_

"Are you sure you didn't daydream?" Chaplin asked. "If something had happened to Michelangelo, surely somebody would have posted it somewhere."

Leonardo glared at him, and Chaplin held up his hands.

"It was only a suggestion."

"It is the middle of the night in New York," Karai reminded him. "People are asleep."

"I need to make sure my family is safe," Leonardo told her, his tone apologetic.

He had, after all, agreed on taking charge of the new Foot's training until Karai gave birth. The leader of the Foot was in a bad mood more often than not these days, and the previous teachers and masters she had hired hadn't lasted long. Out of desperation, Chaplin had asked Leonardo for help, knowing that his wife would have a hard time trying to throw him through the window, like she had done with the others – good thing he had encircled the Foot headquarters with safety nets.

Karai nodded.

"I understand."

"So you're leaving for New York?" Chaplin asked rhetorically. "Well, the next plane takes off in two hours. You should be able to catch it if you leave now. Do you want me to buy you a ticket?"

Leonardo shook his head, amazed. He hadn't even considered it, too used to disappear in the shadows whenever he was in his native world. Breaking that particular habit was going to be hard.

"I suppose it would be the best course of action," he answered. "Thank you."

"Good luck, Leonardo," Karai said. "I hope your family is alright."

She stroked her belly as she said these words, and Leonardo smiled at her.

"I appreciate that, Karai."

* * *

Leonardo was halfway to the airport when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but picked it up anyways.

And almost dropped it when he heard the speaker's voice.

"Mike!"

"Hi Leo! Long time no talk, uh? How are you doing?"

Michelangelo's voice was cheerful but also a bit shrill, as if he wasn't in his right state of mind.

"How am I… how am _I_ doing? And you? What happened, Mike?"

"A lot happened, dude! Can you believe we haven't talked in _weeks_? By the way, it wasn't fair not to tell me you had a phone. Meditation is out of fashion today, you know?"

"No, I meant… You were…"

Leonardo took a deep breath. Hearing his brother was great. Now he just needed to gather his thoughts and ask him specific questions.

"What happened an hour ago, Mike?"

"Oh, that? It was nothing. A building collapsed on Raph and me, no big deal."

Leonardo fought to keep his voice steady.

"A building _collapsed_ on you?"

"Yes! Because Raph was following a bad guy – a very very dangerous bad guy – and he fell right into his trap, and of course I had to help him out of it – but we didn't make it out in time, so we kind of ended up stuck together under the wreckage – how awesome is that?"

Leonardo definitely didn't have the same definition for the word awesome, but he decided to keep it to himself.

"Mike, where are you?"

"In New York, bro! I was in Paris last week, you know, and in Hong Kong before that, but…"

_Remember, specific questions._

"Mikey. Where. Are. You. Now?"

"Oooh, that's what you meant? Well, I'm in the streets, of course. Raph finally got tired of chasing after me, and he's arresting Mondo right now – Angel kept an eye on him, but he didn't even try to run away because he was worried about me, apparently. Isn't it sweet that people would worry about me? And Raph said that I still couldn't go to sleep because I hit my head, and he wanted to take me to the hospital, but I said _No, Raph, I have to call Leo first_ , and so he says it's your job to make sure I'm staying awake."

Leonardo slowly released his grip on the straps that kept his katana in place.

_Breathe._

"So Raph is with you right now?" He asked. "May I talk to him?"

"But Leo, you're supposed to talk to _me_ ," Michelangelo protested.

Leonardo could almost see his pout. He rolled his eyes.

"Just for a few seconds."

_I need to make sure that at least one of you makes sense._

"Fiiiine."

A moment later, Raphael was on the phone.

"Don't worry, Leo," he was prompt to reassure his brother. "Everything is under control now. Just make Mike talk while I sort things out there, okay?"

"What about the building that collapsed on you?" Leonardo asked, as calmly as he could.

"Ehh… it won't collapse on anybody else now."

"Raph!"

But Michelangelo was already on the phone again.

"See? I told you, no big deal. Now where were we? Ah yes. Talking. I'm good at that. Anything specific you want to know, or you're just generally interested in my life?"

"I…"

"Excellent choice. I knew you would want to know everything about me. Good thing Raphie here knew your phone number by heart!"

Leonardo heard an irritated ' _Shut up, Mike'_ in the background, and he had to smile.

"So, as I was telling our bro, I've been investing in real estate, and I own my own pizza restaurant! And I'll invite Mondo as soon as the police release him."

"Yes, about that. Who's Mondo?" Leonardo managed to interject.

"My new friend! He's kind of on the wrong side, but that's a detail. He's a huge fan of me, and he lent me his phone! I hope he doesn't get in trouble with Slash for helping us, though – that guy is nasty, exploding buildings on cops and all, and he disappeared."

Leonardo felt the beginnings of a headache.

"Mike, are you sure everything is under control?"

"Yes, that's what Raph just told you. Leo, you need to listen better than that! And talking about bros not listening, do you realize that Don still hasn't called me back? With all the messages I left him! That's rude, bro! Do you know what's up with him? Because if he thinks he'll get away with just a text, he's kidding himself. Aren't geniuses supposed to be cleverer than that? And…"

Leonardo waited patiently for his brother to realize that he had to stop talking if he wanted an answer.

"I spoke with Don through the astral plane a few days ago, and he was fine," he answered. "We've scheduled another meeting tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Michelangelo answered. He sounded a bit jealous.

"I'm sure he had a good reason for not calling you back, Mike," Leonardo soothed his brother.

"Raph told me you were in Japan," Michelangelo went on, changing the subject. "He didn't tell me why, though."

Leonardo nodded. He had kept up to date with Michelangelo's whereabouts thanks to Raphael and the press, but he realized now that his brother had no idea what he was up to.

"Well, I'm helping to train the Foot."

"Oh, so you're in the Foot now?"

Michelangelo sounded surprised. And something else. Bitter, maybe? But why would he be? Leonardo frowned.

"Not really. I'm just giving them a hand, because with Karai pregnant, they…"

"YOU GOT KARAI PREGNANT?"

Leonardo almost choked.

"WHAT? How did you even… Of course not, Mike! She's married to Chaplin, remember? He's the father, obviously."

"Oh. Okay."

"In any case, I accepted to stay with them for a while."

"Uh-huh."

"It's temporary, Mike."

"Sure."

"It doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Of course not. Why should it bother me that when you finally go back to your home world, you spend your time with the Foot?"

_Rather than with us_ , Leonardo completed what his brother had left unsaid.

"They needed me," he said softly.

"And I have no problem with that."

Leonardo winced at the grumpiness in his brother's voice – and at the hurt he heard behind. Obviously Michelangelo _had_ a problem with that.

"Mike, remember when I told you that you could always talk to me, about anything?" He tried. "It's still true. What's bothering you?"

He heard his brother sigh.

"No, it's nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just tired, I guess. I could really use a nap right now."

Michelangelo yawned exaggeratedly and Leonardo shook his head.

"Mike, you have to see a doctor first."

"I'm a mutant turtle, what are they going to do?" Michelangelo protested.

"Keep you under observation. You can choose the clinic you want. Money isn't a problem, is it?"

"It's not," Michelangelo agreed reluctantly.

"Good. And make sure the doctors examine Raph, too."

"Hmm. I rather like that part." Michelangelo's voice sounded cheerful again. "Fine, I'll tell him."

"And don't forget to give me the address," Leonardo added.

"So you can send me a 'get well soon' card? That's really nice from you, I'm..."

Leonardo cut him off gently.

"Actually, it's to help me find you. I'm on my way to the airport."

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Then, very softly, Michelangelo answered.

"Really?"

Leonardo bit his lip.

"Yes, really."


	8. Back to New York

At Raphael's police station, Detective Kurtzman was leaning over the wooden table of his small interrogation room in an attempt to impress his prisoner, a teenage mutant gecko.

The boy wasn't in the least being cooperative. He hadn't said a word since Raphael had brought him to the police station, hours ago, and was currently looking at his handcuffs to avoid meeting the detective's gaze. He still wore the muzzle they had put on him when he had tried to use his prodigious tongue to escape. It didn't prevent him from speaking or even drinking, but it couldn't be comfortable.

Detective Kurtzman sighed. It had been a long night. First, an anonymous call had informed him that a parcel bomb had been deposited somewhere in the subway. It was a false alert, but it had monopolized his cops' attention for hours. Second, a deserted apartment block had collapsed after an explosion, and he had nobody left to investigate – Raphael had been unreachable at the time. Third, he had learned that Raphael was, in fact, already on the scene – because the building had collapsed on _him_ and his brother Michelangelo.

Although Kurtzman was happy that none of them had been seriously injured, he hoped that Raphael would do a better job of staying out of the press this time. Luckily, the journalists had been busy covering the subway non-event, and none of them was aware that an international star had almost died under tons of wreckage.

Kurtzman suspected that both events were linked, and that the mutant named Slash had orchestrated them in order to get rid of a personal enemy.

His scheme would have succeeded if the gecko Kurtzman was interrogating hadn't interfered in. He was apparently a big fan of Michelangelo's show.

Kurtzman almost felt bad for having to push him around, but he needed information. The boy was, after all, Slash's accomplice. It placed him very high on the police wanted list, and the detective wasn't going to miss his chance to learn about Slash's whereabouts.

_That mutant isn't afraid of anything. We have to find him, and soon. Too many lives are at stake._

Behind the one-way mirror of the interrogation room, Raphael was watching the scene with a very unpleasant sense of guilt. He had promised Michelangelo that no harm would be done to the gecko, and although nobody had physically hit him, he was pretty sure his brother would have something to say about the muzzle and handcuffs.

Raphael had just come back from the private clinic where the doctors and nurses had insisted on examining him – heavily backed up by Michelangelo. But the medical examination had revealed nothing, and after a few hours, most of them spent napping, he had been free to go. The doctors had kept his brother, though, mostly because he was still blabbering nonsense. Raphael had, of course, refrained to tell them that Michelangelo was _always_ blabbering nonsense after a traumatic event – it was his way to cope. He had left his brother with his plump manager, Timothy, and his body guards. Michelangelo would be well taken care of.

Besides, Leonardo would arrive soon. As far as Raphael was concerned, it was the only positive point in this huge mess – apart from the fact they were still alive, of course. The cop turtle had every intent to make room in his busy schedule to spend time with his brother – and hopefully rekindle his love for New York City.

After all, there was no place like home.

Kurtzman slammed his fists against the table and Raphael turned his attention on the interrogation again. His boss was getting frustrated; it was time to switch places with him. Maybe Mondo would open up to Michelangelo's brother.

* * *

From his bed in the private room of the private clinic where he had spent the best part of the last twelve hours, Michelangelo glared at his manager, hoping that it would shut him up. With no luck. Timothy was wringing his hands, saying again and again how careless Mike had been for going out on his own, and what if he had been seriously injured, or worse, what if he had died? What had he been thinking? And why did he have these sticks with him, he knew it was bad for his image… Hopefully nobody had seen him…

"They are nunchucks, Tim, not sticks," Michelangelo corrected wearily. "And I knew what I was doing." He realized that this last part wasn't very convincing – not when he _had_ almost died.

And indeed, Timothy wasn't convinced.

"Mike, you're precious to so many people," he scolded. "You can't risk your life like that."

At that point, Michelangelo decided to hide his face in his pillow. Maybe Timothy would get the message and leave.

However, his move had the opposite effect.

"Mike, are you alright? The doctors said to call them immediately if you had a headache…"

"I've no headache, Timothy," Michelangelo answered, his voice muffled by the pillow.

_Although you're beginning to give me one. Can't you leave me alone?_

Maybe he should have kept faking sleep. It had worked fine during the last half an hour, but he had got bored with that scheme. Why did everyone keep treating him as if he was made of glass?

To his relief, commotion at the door distracted his manager's attention.

"What's happening?" Timothy muttered. "I told the clinic that you were not to be disturbed under any circumstances."

 _If only you would apply that to yourself,_ Michelangelo thought, and he snickered in his pillow.

Timothy carefully opened the door, and Michelangelo caught the stern voices of his bodyguards talking to someone. When the door closed, he sighed with relief and checked the clock hanging on the wall. _Another half an hour before Leo's plane lands. Time is passing slowly_ , he mused. He remembered that he still had to tell Timothy about his brother's imminent visit. His manager had been so busy panicking that Michelangelo hadn't felt like sharing the news.

"No, Sir, you have no business here," he heard Timothy say behind the door. "I don't know who gave you this address, or why you thought disguising as a turtle like him was a good idea, but you can go back where you came from. And what is this mask for? I'm sorry to say, it's ridiculous."

 _Fans,_ Michelangelo thought, amused. _They would really try anything. Though Tim has a point, how did he get the address?_

He took another look at the clock, and was disappointed to see that the hands hadn't budged.

_Patience, Mike. Leo said he was coming, right? He's not going to break his word._

"Now if you don't want to leave on your own," Timothy's voice was answering the stubborn fan - Michelangelo hadn't heard him speak, it was surprising because people tended to be shrill and over-enthusiastic when they were near him, "I'm afraid I'll have to ask these gentlemen to see you to the door."

 _Such unnecessary violence. Maybe I should interfere?_ Michelangelo mused, looking again at the clock.

At the hands that still hadn't budged – had the clock stopped?

There was a muffled sound outside Michelangelo's room.

"Who are you?" Timothy shouted, and there was a note of fear in his voice –

 _And the clock had stopped_ – it didn't tell the right time –

And Michelangelo jumped right out of bed, burst the door open and almost trampled on his poor manager, vaguely taking in his two bodyguards groaning on the floor, while a blue-masked turtle with a backpack was lifting an unimpressed eye ridge at them –

And then he was hugging his surprised brother with strength, the warmth in his smile matching the sun's.

"LEO!"

"Hi, Mike. Glad to see you in such great shape," Leonardo answered, his voice coming out strangled because of his brother's choke hold. "You had me worried."

Michelangelo chuckled and took a step back to better look at him. Leonardo looked fine, a little tired maybe.

"Hey, that scar is new," Michelangelo suddenly frowned, noticing the thin line on his brother's left arm. "Aren't you supposed to be careful?"

"At least I'm not getting buried under buildings," Leonardo replied. "You still have to explain me how exactly _that_ happened."

"Don't change the topic, bro," Michelangelo teased. It felt so _good_ to be able to do it and see Leonardo's reaction, his eyes rolling while he half-smiled, although he would totally go to the bottom of this later and learn who or what had dared injure his brother, and…

Behind him, someone coughed. Michelangelo turned around to meet Timothy's disbelieving eyes.

"Leo?" The manager asked while the bodyguards stood up, watching the unknown turtle with suspicion.

And considerable caution.

"Hey, Tim, remember my brother Leonardo? He's paying me a visit."

"Leonardo?" Timothy repeated, blushing. "I thought he was… You told me he had left for another world, and so I thought…"

Michelangelo blinked before realizing what Timothy had thought.

"What? Oh no, no no no no no no! By 'he had left for another world', I meant exactly that. That he had left for another world. In another universe, you see?"

Obviously Timothy didn't, but to his credit, he still nodded bravely.

"Nice to meet you, then," he said to the blue-masked turtle, his voice a little strained.

Leonardo nodded politely. Michelangelo grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him inside his room.

"Thanks for everything, Tim, you're doing a great job. Keep making sure that nobody disturbs us!"

With a last apologetic nod to his two bodyguards, Michelangelo slammed the door in the face of the three baffled humans.

"Sorry about that," he told Leo. "I didn't think it was that late, and I didn't warn them."

Leonardo shook his head.

"At least they take your safety seriously," he answered. "Although your guards could use some training."

Michelangelo grinned.

"They are the best in the business, bro. And on top of that, they're good fellows. You didn't hurt them, did you?"

"Of course not."

Michelangelo waved at the room with a grand gesture of his arm.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. My apartment is bigger, but somebody insisted that I needed medical attention, so this room will have to do. Raph said he would drop by later - he's at the police station – but it's just you and me right now. You didn't get a hotel, did you? You can stay at my place for as long as you want to. I'll ask somebody to carry your remaining luggage there – where is it, by the way?"

Leonardo, who had been unpacking his katana while listening to his brother, raised an eye ridge. Michelangelo threw up his hands.

"You don't have any, do you? No problem. I'll take you shopping."

"I don't need anything," Leonardo remarked, an amused note in his tone.

"That's because you haven't seen the stuff they sell here."

Leonardo shook his head and sat on a chair next to Michelangelo's bed, tilting his head towards the piece of furniture to indicate that his brother should settle too.

"I'm fiiiiine, Leo," Michelangelo complained while he casually lay down, hands behind his head. There was so much he wanted to talk about, serious topics included, like what his brother had been doing all those weeks and why the shell hadn't New York been his first stop when he had come back to Earth?

But Leonardo was here now, and that was what mattered most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _We now have three turtles in New York City. But where is the fourth? You might ask, and that's a very good question which shall be answered in the next chapter._
> 
> _And I've learned that I had stories nominated in the Reader's Choice Awards, thank you so much to those of you who offered me that gift! It's an amazing feeling to know that actual_ people _not only read my stories (making me squeal with delight, and being the very reason I'm not letting said stories gather dust_ _unfinished_ _on my laptop), but also remember them months later. (Aka happy author is happy.)_


	9. Where He Was All Along

Donatello's mind was wandering miles away from his current location, his body busy with the exertion of doing push-ups. He would have by far preferred to tinker with something mechanical, but nothing was at his disposal right now.

And to think that only a few days before, he had access to the newest equipment and most powerful computers.

_What did I stick my nose in this time?_

Of course, he was working on top-secret projects for the government, along with a handful of brilliant scientists. It was exhilarating to share his insights with them. Although he was the only mutant in the team, he wasn't treated differently, and he finally had the opportunity to use his brains for the greater good, to improve the safety and well-being of every citizen in this country and beyond – at least that was the goal.

So what had gone wrong?

One second he was talking to one of his favorite colleagues, Dr. Rockwell, and the next he was breathing sleeping gas and losing the battle to stay awake.

He couldn't remember what the conversation had been about, or what he had done before that – it must be a side effect of the gas.

_Hopefully it won't last. I hope Rockwell is alright. Was he kidnapped too?_

Whoever was responsible for this had the resources to break into a government facility. And maintaining a prison such as the one he found himself in couldn't be cheap either.

_Bishop? We haven't heard of him since his disgrace, after his super soldiers project led to large-scale mutations among the civilian population. Which is also the reason why I could leave the sewers' shadows and work with the best scientists on Earth, so I guess there is good in everything._

But surely Bishop would have manifested himself by now.

Donatello breathed deeply, increasing the pace of his push-ups. He was itching to investigate that matter, but all means of communication had been confiscated from him.

Except for one, very unusual, it was true.

_And extremely illogical, but a true scientist has the ability to embrace the unexpected._

In a few hours, he would enter a deep meditative state and travel to the astral plane for his scheduled meeting with Leonardo. Surely his brother would agree to do some research for him. Donatello would also ask him to contact Raphael and Michelangelo, so they wouldn't worry about him.

He just had to figure out the best way to tell Leo about his current…predicament.

* * *

"Hi, Don. How are you?"

Donatello smiled to the spiritual form of his brother, rejoicing in seeing the familiar and soothing blue aura.

"I'm fine, Leo. And you? Has Karai driven you crazy by now?"

Leonardo tilted his head.

"Actually, I'm not in Japan anymore. I traveled to New York City."

Donatello frowned.

"Really? I thought you wanted to wait until the end of Karai's pregnancy…"

"Something happened to Raph and Mike," Leonardo explained. "I decided to investigate."

Seeing Donatello's expression, he hurriedly went on.

"They're fine, don't worry."

"What happened?" Donatello demanded, forgetting about his own situation. He had only been without news for a few days… What had his brothers gotten themselves into?

"Somebody tried to kill them," Leonardo answered grimly. "Or more precisely, tried to kill Raph. Mikey just happened to be with him at that precise moment."

Donatello narrowed his eyes.

"Who?" He asked, his tone deadly serious.

"A mutant named Slash. Never heard of him before."

"Slash? That name sounds familiar. Wait a minute… Isn't he the guy who tried to blow up a shopping center? Raph stopped him at the last minute."

Leonardo raised an eye ridge.

"I wasn't aware of that."

"Hmm. Raph didn't tell you about it, did he? Well, he didn't tell me either, and it wasn't in the official press, but…"

Donatello smiled, rather smugly.

"I have my sources."

"Of course you do." Leonardo smiled, then shook his head fondly. "Speaking of which, I'm glad to know you're in good company, but don't forget to give Mike a proper call as soon as possible. I'm supposed to tell you that texts are irrelevant - he was quite insistent about it."

Donatello blinked. He hadn't texted Michelangelo in a while – he knew that his brother preferred phone calls. Another mystery he could add to the list. Who had done it, and why?

His surprise didn't go unnoticed by Leonardo.

"Don?" The blue turtle frowned, his tone becoming more serious. "Is something the matter?"

 _Okay, you better tell him now,_ Donatello thought. _This is embarrassing._

"Actually, Leo, I didn't text Mike. I… lost my phone."

" _You_ lost your phone?"

Leonardo's tone was incredulous. Donatello couldn't really blame his brother – after all, he had always been the one to ask his siblings to pay attention to the precious and handmade technology he entrusted them with.

"Don?" Leonardo's tone was inquiring.

"Well, it might have been confiscated from me," Donatello admitted.

"Confiscated? Don, you just told me you were fine."

"And I am, Leo. I have enough room to move comfortably, I have regular meals, and nobody hurt me."

Leonardo's eyes widened, and Donatello realized that his wording might sound a little ominous.

"You're in a cell."

His brother's deadpan tone was not to be trifled with.

"Yes," Donatello admitted, secretly relieved that he hadn't to elaborate. "I'm a prisoner."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I can't seem to remember."

Leonardo looked at him, his expression a mixture of concern and exasperation.

"We really have to work on your definition of 'fine', Don," he remarked wryly. "Where are you? We'll get to you as soon as we can."

Donatello took a deep breath.

"I appreciate that, but it's going to be a little harder than you might think."

"That's not the point. Can you escape on your own?" Leonardo asked rhetorically. He knew that his brother would already have told him so if it was the case.

"No," Donatello admitted.

"So where are you?"

Donatello looked sheepish.

"I'm not exactly sure, but considering the noises and general feeling of the place, along with a few clues that I gathered here and there…"

He stopped, trying to think of a way to soften the blow.

"Give me your best guess," Leonardo prompted, his blue aura pulsing slightly faster. Donatello knew that his brother was already elaborating plans, but he doubted that the knowledge of his current location would be helpful.

In any case, he couldn't back away now.

"I'm thousands of leagues under the sea. In a submarine."


	10. Brotherly Concern

"In a submarine. You're in a submarine. As a prisoner."

Leonardo did his best to keep his thoughts steady and control the wave of concern threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't afford to lose his spiritual link to Donatello. He focused on his brother's purple shape, marveling at how unfazed he looked. They could have been discussing picnic preparations and Donatello wouldn't have sounded more relaxed.

"Yes. I'll admit, it's a rather unusual prison. It must cost them a fortune in fuel."

"That's the least of my worries right now, Don."

"But think about it, Leo. Whoever kidnapped me is rich. I'd say filthy rich, even."

Leonardo mused.

"Alright. But unless you have a name and an address, I'd prefer you to focus on finding a way to locate your position. I must say I'm out of my depth."

Donatello shook his head.

"I can't do anything without the proper equipment. But one of my colleagues might be able to help. Of course, he could be a prisoner himself. His name is Doctor Tyler Rockwell."

Leonardo nodded.

"Tell me everything about him."

* * *

Leonardo had barely ended his talk with Donatello and opened his eyes that Michelangelo jumped on him.

"So, what did he say? What did he say?"

Leonardo hesitated for a second too long, immediately triggering Michelangelo's intuition.

"Leo?" the suspicious turtle asked. "You were talking to Don, right? Please tell me you didn't lose the ability to travel to the astral plane too!"

Leonardo made a mental note of the 'too' and promised himself to talk about it with his brother later. Right now, he had more urgent matters to attend to.

And the most urgent of all was to warn Michelangelo and Raphael about their brother's situation.

"No, I was able to talk to him. He's…" _Fine_ really wasn't the adequate word, no matter what Donatello said. "… in need of our help."

Michelangelo's eyes widened.

"Really? He's in trouble?"

"Yes. But he's in good health. When does Raph arrive?" Leonardo asked, hoping to avoid further questioning. He didn't want to repeat the same tale twice, and maybe he could begin looking for this Doctor Rockwell. They had no time to lose. Donatello had told him that Rockwell would probably not be able to answer his phone, but maybe his other colleagues would know something…

Understandably, Michelangelo would have none of it. Grabbing Leonardo's shoulders, he let his forehead rest against his brother's so that their eyes were inches apart.

"Soon," he merely said, letting his glare express the rest of his feelings.

Leonardo sighed.

"Alright. But don't shout, okay? My presence in this clinic caused enough commotion for the day."

Michelangelo nodded, his nose bumping against Leonardo's in the process.

"Of course. You can count on me."

* * *

Raphael wasn't in the best of moods when he entered Michelangelo's clinic. Mondo Gecko had remained locked up in his silence, and the turtle had resigned himself to leave him in custody. At least he had negotiated an individual cell for the teenage mutant. He doubted that Mondo would be grateful, though.

He walked past Michelangelo's bodyguards and noticed how they tensed at his sight, exchanging worried glances. _Heh. I wonder what happened._

"Sorry, Sir, but Michelangelo isn't to be disturbed," the most courageous told him. "Come back later."

Raphael tilted his head, vaguely amused.

"Oh? Why? Is it treatment time?"

The guard shook his head, embarrassed.

"No, but he's with his brother… I mean, his other brother…and he made clear that he wanted to be left alone."

 _So Leo's already here. Good,_ Raphael thought.

"Mikey's brother is my brother too," he remarked, quite reasonably. "I'm sure they won't mind."

The guard bit his lip. Maybe it was because the turtle was absentmindedly rubbing his fists – his massive green fists – together, or maybe it was for an entirely different reason.

"Yes… I suppose it makes sense…"

Raphael bumped his fists softly, offering the guard his favorite grin. The one that showed his white teeth.

"Good. I'm glad we have an agreement."

With a defeated sigh, the human got out of his way. Raphael kept grinning, his mood lifted, and put his hand on the doorknob…

"WHAT THE SHELL?" Michelangelo shouted, and Raphael found himself bursting the door open instead of opening it silently like a civilized ninja turtle.

Inside, Leonardo was glaring at Michelangelo, his hands rubbing his ears.

Not finding his brothers in any life-threatening situation, Raphael relaxed.

"Hi, Mike. Hi, Leo. Nice to see you," he greeted, before delicately placing the door - which had been ripped off its hinges - back in its doorframe.

"Hi, Raph. Your timing is perfect," Leonardo replied, standing up with a grimace. "I was just telling Mike that Don needs our help."

Raphael tensed slightly.

"What? Is he alright?"

"Well, he's in good health," Leonardo repeated. "But he's…"

"He's being held in a submarine!" Michelangelo shouted, releasing Leonardo's shoulders to grab Raphael's. "Raph, somebody turtlenapped our brother!"

Raphael blinked. It took him two whole seconds and a glance at Leonardo's grim expression to understand that Michelangelo was perfectly serious.

Then he saw red.

"WHAT THE SHELL?"

Leonardo sighed.

* * *

Raphael was pacing back and forth while Leonardo was calling one after the other the private phone numbers Donatello had made him learn by heart. So far, he hadn't managed to reach his brother's colleagues. Michelangelo was outside the room, talking to his bodyguards and trying to convince them that everything was fine and he didn't need reinforcements. A new door would be welcome, though.

"Raph, calm down," Leonardo said, hanging up. "Of course we'll rescue Don."

"He's underwater," Raphael grumbled, not slowing his pacing in the slightest. "Inside a submarine. How the shell are we going to find him? Even if you could locate him, do you happen to have your own submarine, Leo? In your pocket, maybe? Because I certainly don't."

"Don had one, once," Michelangelo remarked, coming back inside with a tired expression. "Too bad it exploded."

Not paying any attention to Raphael's wry remark or Michelangelo's deadpan tone, Leonardo shook his head.

"Maybe we won't need one. The submarine will have to refuel and resupply from time to time. It'll resurface."

"And we'll be there, waiting for it," Raphael said threateningly. Whoever had dared to kidnap his brother was going to pay for it. Chasing Slash would have to wait. Donatello came first.

"I knew something was wrong," Michelangelo whispered moodily. "I knew he would never leave me hanging like that." He turned to the pacing turtle. "And don't worry, Raph. If needed, I can buy us a submarine."

Leonardo lifted an eye ridge, clearly asking his brother a silent question. Raphael rolled his eyes as an answer.

"Anyways," Leonardo said. "The phone numbers Don gave me aren't working. He told me this might happen - external communications must have been cut off. It's in the emergency procedure."

"Ha. Good to know they're at least a little bit worried that one of their top scientists was kidnapped right under their nose," Raphael grumbled.

"So what's the plan? We sneak inside?" Michelangelo asked hopefully. "Like in the good old days?"

"No. It'll be faster to hack their communications network."

Raphael and Michelangelo shared a skeptical look.

"Are you a hacker now, Leo?" Raphael asked wryly. "Is that the new fashion in the Battle Nexus? Computer fighting?"

Leonardo shook his head.

"No. But we all know someone who could do it - and who also knows Donatello's encrypting system, which might come in handy."

"Oooh, _that_ someone," Michelangelo said, his eyes shining. "But should we disturb her? Isn't she supposed to be resting?"

"I'm sure she'll be willing to help," Leonardo replied.

Raphael snorted. "You got that right. I'd even say she'll kill us if we don't ask for her help."


	11. Call for Help

April Jones, former April O'Neil, was looking at the bubbles in her relaxing bath with a bored expression. She was itching to do something useful - anything - but the doctors had been formal: months of rest were required after the surgery she had undergone, at least if she wanted her body to head.

Sometimes, she wondered if they knew what they were saying or if they were just covering their bases - wasn't her mental well-being as important as her physical health? But she wasn't going to take the risk, not when her ability to conceive was at stake.

She sighed, remembering her happiness when she and Casey had finally decided that it was the right time to have a child. They had been patient, but as the months went by, she had begun to worry and convinced her husband that they needed to see a doctor.

They had discovered that she, April, had begun to develop a tiny mutation, due to the fact she had breathed the toxic mutagenic cloud that had lingered in New York's atmosphere after Bishop's failed experiment. The government had failed to inform people that the danger had not passed after the splashing of mutagen who had randomly mutated individuals in the city and beyond. Whether it was by ignorance or carelessness, she didn't know.

She refused to believe that it had been intentional.

In any case, she was hardly the only woman affected by this - and men had been having trouble too - but it didn't make it any less personal. Her operation had gone well, though, and the doctors were optimistic.

She just had to be patient.

"A massage for your thoughts."

April smiled as Casey came closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I was just thinking that I'm going to become crazy if I have to stay here and do nothing for another six weeks. I mean, the view is gorgeous, and I love the hot springs, but I miss being busy."

"Yeah, me too," Casey admitted casually.

April felt guilty. There were no heads to bust in the spa resort. It was small and filled with quiet, peaceful people. She knew it wasn't her husband favorite environment, but his patience seemed endless.

Casey felt her tense and he increased the pressure of his fingers, expertly rubbing her neck.

"I'm here for you, April," he said, secretly proud that he had finally learned how to talk to the woman he loved. "We're in this together."

April relaxed.

"Thanks, Casey," she merely said.

Casey leaned forward to kiss the top of her head, and she raised her arm to stroke his cheek...

Both jumped when the phone rang.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, a wrapped-up in a bathrobe April was in front of her computer, focusing to go undetected through governmental security systems. Next to her, Casey was making conversation with the phone in speaker mode so that she could listen to the turtles' answers.

"No, don't be sorry," he was saying, keeping his tone light-hearted. "Don is family. Of course we'll help."

"You mean, _April_ will help," Michelangelo's voice teased him.

"Hey, Mike, are you telling I'm useless?" Casey answered, deliberately taking the bait. "That's not fair. April, tell him that's not fair!"

"You know, Mike, he's getting better," April replied, her main focus still on the task at hand. "I almost trust him with my computer now."

"Yeah. Like I almost trust Mike with the Shellcycle," Raphael snorted.

April smiled while her fingers flew over the keyboard. Using her own knowledge and the tricks she had learned from Donatello, she was quick to find her way through the firewalls.

"There", she exclaimed. "Leo, I'll give you a direct access to the inside communication network. It won't last long, so make it quick."

"Got it, April", Leonardo answered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let me know how it goes."

"And say hi to Angel!" Casey added, prompting Raphael's assent before the turtles hung up.

April sighed and Casey wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against her husband's chest.

"I'm sure Don will be fine. He has seen worse. And you know the others would go to hell and back for him."

"I know, Casey. I just wish I could do more."

* * *

Sitting at his desk, Dr Rockwell was rubbing his temples, having lost the battle to focus on his work. He wondered where exactly Donatello was right now, hoping that his colleague was fine.

The officials had apparently no idea where Donatello was, or who was behind his kidnapping. They had questioned Rockwell, wanting to know what had happened and why Donatello had been the only one to disappear, and he had patiently explained to them that the sleeping gas had messed with his memories and he couldn't remember.

Since then, they were all forbidden to leave the laboratory or to communicate with the external world.

Which made it all the more surprising when Rockwell's cell phone rang.

"Hello," he answered, whispering without realizing it. "Who is this?"

His eyes widened as he listened to the short reply.

"You're Donatello's brother? How did you manage to… No, wait, that's not important. Have you heard from him?"

As he talked, Rockwell glanced worriedly from left to right and from right to left. He suspected that he and his colleagues were being monitored.

"Oh." Rockwell's tone was disappointed. "You're without news and you're counting on me? I'm sorry I can't help you. I don't remember what we were talking about, and he had no enemy I knew of… Donatello is a wonderful fellow, always ready to help, and one of the most brilliant minds I've ever encountered. His disappearance is a tragedy to us all."

Rockwell nervously tapped the table with his fingernails, knowing that he had very little time left.

"Of course, I'll let you know if I find something. Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't help you more."

The scientist hung up with a sigh and tilted his head back. He was completely unsurprised when a man in a black suit came to him a few minutes later, politely asking him what the conversation had been about.

 _If only you had been that diligent a few days before,_ he thought.

* * *

Lying down in his cell, eyes closed, Donatello was listening to the sounds of the machinery, imagining the ocean all around him.

Trying to remember.

He could feel bits of memories floating around his consciousness, just out of his reach, and it was driving him crazy. He knew they were important, _vitally important,_ and he had been upset about something, hadn't he?

But what was it?

Leonardo had told him not to beat himself up for his amnesia, and he was trying to follow his brother's advice, but it was easier said than done.

 _Breathe,_ he told himself. _It's exactly like looking for the solution of a particularly complex problem. It'll come to you if you stop trying so hard._

Forcing his thoughts to take another path, he began thinking about the equipment he would design for Raphael, so his brother would be safe if another building collapsed on him while performing his duty as a cop.

You never knew when that could happen.

* * *

"So what's next?" Raphael asked, fists clenched. "We wait?"

From his stance, it was obvious that he wasn't going to accept yes as an answer.

Which was probably why Leonardo circumvented the question.

"We need other information sources," he mused. "Do you think your connections in the police could be useful?"

Raphael frowned.

"We don't handle state business," he said. "But my boss has been in a lot of places. Maybe he can recommend somebody. It's worth a try."

"I'm coming too," Michelangelo decided. "I've had enough of this place. Besides, Raphael was under the wreckage with me and _he_ 's allowed to leave!"

"I didn't fall unconscious," Raphael pointed out.

Leonardo looked at them pensively.

"It's probably best if we stay together for now. Slash hasn't been arrested yet, and as talented as your bodyguards are…" He gave Michelangelo a pointed look. "Going past them was way too easy."

"Bro, they rarely have to deal with high-skilled ninja," Michelangelo remarked.

"You're right. They're perfectly fit to take care of your safety. You'll be fine here. See you later," Raphael said, hiding a grin.

Michelangelo jumped right out of bed.

"On second thought, you're right. Maybe they could use some extra training." He glanced at Leonardo. "I, on the contrary, am always in top shape…"

Raphael smirked. "Sure. With all the time you spend practicing…"

Michelangelo glared at him. "Of course I keep practicing! Whenever I have the time and motiva…" He saw Leonardo's narrowed eyes and decided to rephrase his sentence. "Uh… Very regularly. See? I even have my nunchucks with me!" He picked up the items in question and showed them to his brother. "I'm taking training very seriously! As I always have!"

He waited for Leonardo's reply, wondering whether that last part had been superfluous. No need to overact, right? It wasn't as if his brother was somehow able to know when he was trying to take him for a ride, right? It didn't matter anyways, he knew he was still an excellent fighter, it was in his blood.

"That's impressive," Leonardo said slowly. "Considering how busy you are."

Michelangelo coughed and decided to cleverly change the topic.

"So, let's talk to Raphie's boss or not?"

Raphael almost smacked his brother's head, but thought better of it. He would wait until he was certain that Michelangelo didn't have a concussion.

"Don't call me that," he retorted instead.

Michelangelo grinned.

* * *

They were heading for the police station, taking the rooftop route so Michelangelo wouldn't be recognized - the turtle had dismissed his bodyguards, telling them that he would stay with his brothers for a while, and although they hadn't been pleased with the news, they hadn't dared to protest - when they were ambushed by a group of soldiers wearing worn-out battle suits.

The attack came out of nowhere, but the turtles had been raised as ninja and this was their specialty. Leonardo had disarmed half the men before they could draw their guns, Raphael was making good use of this opportunity to release stress and beating them a little more than was strictly necessary, and Michelangelo relished in the odd feeling of familiarity the rooftop battle gave him.

It didn't even last five minutes, and Michelangelo and Raphael both sighed in disappointment.

Raphael put his sai back in his belt and cracked his knuckles. "Not that I'm complaining, but anybody knows who these guys are?"

"Probably people you angered," Michelangelo replied with a smirk. "You should really be nicer."

Raphael shrugged, not bothering to deny, and Michelangelo turned to Leonardo.

"See? I told you I was in top shape."

"It was way too easy." Leonardo shook his head. "As if they weren't really trying."

"That's because they weren't really trying, turtle," a familiar voice said. "I just wanted to make sure that you were still a force to be reckoned with."

As Leonardo drew his katana again, in a fluid and almost invisible motion, a man stepped out of the shadows, extending his hand in a peaceful gesture.

"It won't be necessary. I come as a friend."

"Bishop," Raphael muttered, pointing his sai in the newcomer's direction. "I thought we had seen the last of you. Aren't you _persona non grata_ in the whole country?"

"Oh, I'm hard to get rid of," Bishop smirked. "Maybe you've already noticed that."

"Let me try again," Raphael said, advancing towards him. "Just to be sure."

As he came closer to the delusional man who had just attacked them and still pretended to their friend, however, his sai hit an invisible force field. The founder of the Earth Protection Force had taken precautions.

Bishop slowly threw up his arms, making sure that he had the turtles' full attention.

"And lose this opportunity to rescue your brother Donatello? I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Raphael gasped. "If you've hurt him…" he threatened, his voice so low it was barely audible.

"Are you the one who kidnapped him?" Michelangelo exclaimed at the same time.

Bishop shook his head, a cold smile on his lips.

"No. But I have information about his whereabouts, information that you might find interesting."

"And what do you want in exchange?" Leonardo slowly asked.

"Straight to the point, like always." Bishop nodded his appreciation. "Why lose time with social niceties?" Ignoring Raphael who was discreetly poking at his force field to see if it had a weak point - it hadn't, Stockman had made sure of it - Bishop looked Leonardo in the eye.

"The answer is easy enough, turtle. I want your help."


	12. Golden Opportunity

"You want our help."

Leonardo's tone was doubtful at best. It didn't faze Bishop, who stepped forward, his hands casually clasped behind his back.

"Yes. I have a goal to reach, and I figured out that you could spare me a lot of time and effort. In return, I'm willing to help you find your brother Donatello. A fair deal."

"And what makes you believe that we'll trust you?" Raphael spat, finally convinced that he wasn't going to pierce through the force field protecting Bishop.

Bishop smiled, obviously enjoying the conversation. He lifted his right arm, pointing at the ocean nearby.

"If you accept my offer, I'll lend you a submarine from my personal float. Along with Donatello's coordinates."

Leonardo sheathed his swords and raised a hand to stop his brothers' shouts.

"And how did you learn them?"

"Please, Leonardo. Knowledge is my business." Bishop bowed his head mockingly. "So, what do you say?"

"What do you need us for?" Leonardo asked, suspecting a trap of some kind but unwilling to let go of this opportunity to find his genius brother.

Just thinking of him, locked in a cell in the middle of the ocean-nowhere, made him want to tear apart whoever was responsible for this.

Bishop sighed deeply.

"As you might have noticed, I'm not exactly welcome in this city right now. It will pass, of course - one day, I shall be welcomed as the protector of humankind I am - but I thought it would be best if I kept a low profile for a while. However, I need to recapture a particular mutant. Do it for me and we'll have a deal."

Raphael frowned, his suspicions aroused.

"Recapture a mutant, you say? What kind of mutant?"

Bishop crossed his fingers together. He had everything of a casual businessman - it was as if negotiating on a rooftop with former enemies was part of his daily life.

"We're talking about a mutant giant turtle."

"Slash," Raphael whispered, his grasp on his sai tightening. "What does he have to do with you?"

Bishop gritted his teeth.

"This is none of your business."

"You created him, didn't you?" Michelangelo interjected, a saddened expression on his face. "Dude, don't you ever learn? Each time you've tried to make a superhuman army, it has ended in disaster!"

" _This is none of your business_ ," Bishop repeated. He wasn't going to admit that the turtle was right. And he certainly wasn't going to admit that Stockman had told him the very same thing before beginning to work on this new project.

"Very well. Help us find our missing brother and we'll capture Slash for you," Leonardo said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He was certain that Bishop wasn't telling them everything.

The man looked at him, his face expressionless.

"What about you capture the mutant first, and I help you find Donatello next?"

"We'll need Donatello for this task," Leonardo noticed, his voice cold. "I'm sure you're aware of that."

Bishop kept silent for ten long seconds before nodding briefly.

"Very well. Rescue your brother first. But don't try to double-cross me, turtles, or you will pay for it. Dearly."

"You dare threatening us?" Raphael exploded. "You're the one responsible for Slash's actions! He's been trying to _kill_ people, are you aware of that? Tell me how it feels, you so-called protector of humankind!"

For the first time since the beginning of that conversation, it looked like Bishop would lose his composure. Raphael's words must have hit home.

"If you're diligent, Slash soon won't be a threat anymore," he replied, fists clenched.

"Then let's hurry," Leonardo interjected. You told us about a submarine?"

Bishop took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his lips.

"Of course, Leonardo. It's waiting for you in the bay as we speak."

The look of surprise on the turtles' faces lifted his spirits. It felt good to be in control of the situation once more.

"I vaguely hoped that the three of you would be enough to capture Slash, but I'm not insisting if you don't feel up to it," he teased. "After all, I know how lost you are without him. Remember that time when you had to leave him in my care because you had no idea how to deal with his double mutation?" He smirked. "It was such a pleasure to study him."

He kept smiling while Leonardo grabbed his brothers' arms to prevent them from jumping on him. He wished that there were witnesses to this scene - Stockman would have been perfect - but the better he got was a pigeon flying by.

"Now, if you would please follow me," he added in a honeyed tone. "Your submarine is this way."

* * *

"Impressive instrument panel," Michelangelo mused, while Raphael was fuming on the other side of the control room. They were alone in the small submarine. Bishop had assured them that it would lead them straight to Donatello. "What do you think this button does?"

"No you don't," Leonardo retorted, quick to intercept his brother. "We don't want to mess with the autopilot. Unless you feel like you can pilot this?"

"It can't be that hard."

"Mike."

Michelangelo rolled his eyes.

"Fiiine, I'm not going to test my theory. Happy?"

"Thank you. Raph, what's the matter?" Leonardo added, turning to his other brother.

"You mean, apart from the fact that we've just made a deal with the devil?" Raphael gritted out.

"That's exaggerated," Michelangelo replied lightly. "Bishop has neither horns nor hooves nor a pointed red tail."

"What choice did we truly have?" Leonardo pointed out.

Raphael restrained himself from kicking the wall. The last thing he wanted was to pierce a hole in the high tech cockleshell that was Bishop's submarine, and he knew very well Leonardo was right.

"I don't have to like it, Leo," he answered.

Michelangelo looked through a porthole. They were sinking slowly. They weren't very deep yet, and the sunlight could still go through the water and light their surroundings.

"Guys, look," he whispered. "It's beautiful."

"Does it look like I care?" Raphael grumbled. He stepped closer to Michelangelo, though, and took a look through the porthole. "A can. Empty bottles. Another can… Amazing view indeed, Mike."

"You're the least poetic turtle I've ever met," Michelangelo grumbled.

"I'll show you poetry," Raphael retorted, ready to put his brother in a headlock. Michelangelo grinned and jumped backwards to avoid his grasp.

Leonardo smiled and sat on the floor.

"Guys, I'm going to try and reach Don, so he knows we're coming. Anyone wants to meditate with me?"

Raphael crossed his arms and looked away. Michelangelo fidgeted and turned around, taking another look at the shiny control panel…

"Guys?" Leonardo insisted, not feeling annoyed in the least.

He was going to the bottom of this, now.

"Well, you know," Michelangelo began, his voice a bit hesitant, "maybe it's better if you do it. It'll be easier for Don to focus on just one turtle, right?"

Raphael nodded mutely.

"I'm sure Don will manage. Don't you want to talk to him?" Leonardo tilted his head. He knew what the answer was, but he was curious to hear what his brothers would say.

"Of course we do!" They both exclaimed at the same time.

"Then what's the matter?" he inquired.

"Nothing," Raphael said reluctantly, sitting by his side. "Let's do this. For Don."

"Nothing at all," Michelangelo added, doing the same. "I'm ready."

Leonardo could feel their tension. He took pity on them.

"How long since you've last managed to travel through the astral plane?"

The deafening silence that met his question said it all. Leonardo hid a smile in order to avoid hurting his brothers' feelings.

"It's like riding a bicycle. You don't forget."

"I don't ride a bicycle, I ride a Shell Cycle," Raphael grumbled.

"Just close your eyes," Leo went on. "And breathe."

With a last long-suffering sigh, Raphael did so. Michelangelo sent an almost panicked glance his way. What if the ability was entirely lost to him? He had tried and tried and tried last time, and it hadn't worked… Of course, he wasn't alone this time, but still…

On an impulse, he grabbed his brothers' hands before closing his eyes. Leonardo's fingers closed around his and Michelangelo relaxed. He felt Raphael shift on his right and squeezed his hand harder. Surely his brother wasn't going to deny him that small comfort, right?

He opened his eyes an inch and grinned from ear to ear. Far from trying to break his hold, Raphael had grabbed Leonardo's other hand, closing the circle. Michelangelo quickly closed his eyes again before his brother could feel he was being watched.

Sitting on the floor with his brothers by his side, he listened to their breathing falling into a slow, regular pattern. He didn't even realize that he was entering the familiar trance.

* * *

Donatello woke up with a start, his heart beating faster from the panic he felt.

He was running out of time. He was running out of time for… for…

The fragments of his dream were already gone, leaving him with nothing but a sick feeling. He took several deep breathes to steady himself, extending his consciousness in the hope of catching them, of remembering something, _anything_...

He heard the calls almost immediately.

_Don? Don! Doooooon…_

Reaching the astral plane only took him a few seconds, and he found himself watching the three colored shapes that were his brothers' spiritual form.

"Guys?" he asked, a little surprised that all of them were there. Raphael and Michelangelo never used this means of communication with him.

"Don!" The orange shape answered happily, and detached itself from the blue one to jump on him.

"Hi, Mike," Donatello welcomed him, glad to feel him so close. He hadn't realized how much he had missed it until now.

"Hi, Don," Raphael said, his red aura coming closer. "I've heard that you need help. Stuck in a submarine, uh? I can see why it would bother you. Too little room for exploding things."

Donatello spiritually grinned.

"Nice to see you, Raph. I've thought about a little something for you… I've heard that your life has been dangerous lately."

Raphael glared at Leonardo, who raised an unimpressed eye ridge.

"You really had to tell him about that? Now he's going to build me a spacesuit to go to work and my colleagues will never leave it down."

Donatello patted Raphael's shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Raph. It's nothing overboard."

Raphael seemed doubtful, but he grinned back at him.

"It's good to see you, Don. Although I would prefer to see you in the real world too."

Donatello sighed.

"Me too, Raph, but it's not an option right now."

His brothers exchanged knowing glances, tickling his curiosity.

"Actually, we're coming," Leonardo explained. "We found a means of transportation."

"You did?" It was great news and it renewed Donatello's hope, but it was also concerning. "I hope you didn't get into too much trouble for me."

"Of course not," Leonardo replied. He didn't clarify that no trouble was too much if Donatello was concerned. "We'll just have to go mutant hunting afterward."

"Just like old times," Michelangelo pointed out cheerfully.

"No big deal," Raphael added.

Donatello watched each of his brothers in turn.

"Okay. What are you not telling me?"

Both Michelangelo and Raphael looked at Leonardo, who sighed.

"Well… The means of transportation I've talked about happens to be a submarine belonging to Bishop. He knew your coordinates, but he assured us that he had nothing to do with your kidnapping."

"You made a deal with Bishop?" Donatello felt sheepish. Once again, his brothers had needed the dangerous man's help for his sake.

"We took the opportunity, yes," Leonardo told him gently. "Rockwell didn't know anything."

"You managed to join him?" Donatello's relief was almost overwhelming. He had been really worried about the man.

"Yes. He's fine," Leonardo answered. "Now we should better go back to our bodies. We'll be there in a few hours."

Donatello nodded.

"Thank you, guys," he whispered to the departing shapes.

* * *

Back in Bishop's submarine, Michelangelo stretched.

"I'll have sore muscles," he complained. "Why does meditating have to be so uncomfortable?"

"Sorry, Mike," Raphael answered with a grin. "I forgot to bring the cushions."

Leonardo smiled. "Now we just have to wait. Let's take this opportunity to get some rest. We'll need all our strength to get Donatello out of his prison."

Michelangelo sighed exaggeratedly. He hated waiting for anything, and he didn't want to rest or nap. He felt worlds better now that he had seen Donatello, and he was in a mischievous mood.

"Raphie?" he asked innocently. "Can you be my cushion? I can't rest without cushions, and you forgot them."

"I told you not to call me that," Raphael said warningly.

"Sure, Raphie. Everything you want, Raphie. At your service, Raphie…"

Raphael turned to Leonardo, grinning.

"Leo, I think Mike is looking for trouble. And it would be inconsiderate not to give him what he's looking for, right?" He said quite reasonably while rubbing his hands together.

"Fine. Just stay away from the control panel," Leonardo replied, a hint of warning in his voice.

"No problem," Raphael nodded, while Leonardo moved to stand guard on said control panel, just in case.

If his brothers couldn't rest, they might as well blow off some steam.

* * *

A few hours later, after Michelangelo had shown that he was a master at escaping a chasing Raphael, no matter how confined the space was, and they had taken turns napping - Raphael had outright refused to be Michelangelo's cushion, stating that he dribbled in his sleep, and Leonardo had gotten the honor - a ringtone echoed through the room. All three turtles hurried to the control panel.

The previously black screen now displayed a sonar image of another submarine.

"Don is somewhere inside," Raphael said, clenching his fists.

"I hope Bishop was true to his word and they can't detect us," Leonardo whispered.

He wondered how close their submarine would bring them.

He soon got his answer as it stopped, one hundred meters away from the other submarine. They waited, but nothing happened. The turtles looked at each other.

"And now what?" Raphael asked.


	13. Under Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you so much to those of you who voted for me in the TMNT Reader’s Choice Awards!_

Arms crossed behind his back, Bishop frowned at the monitors. He addressed his more or less voluntary partner in an annoyed tone.

"Why did the submarine stop?"

Baxter Stockman shrugged his robotic body - he had given up on the human ones long ago and designed himself technologically advanced shells of metal and wires, and that one had way too many tentacles for Bishop's taste - and tapped away at the control panel.

"Standard procedure. It must have sensed an enemy's radar."

"I thought it was undetectable."

"It should have been. Donatello's captors are better equipped than I thought. Interesting."

Bishop pursed his lips. Stockman might think this was interesting, it was still a setback.

"Do what you have to and get this submarine moving. I want the turtles back as soon as possible. They're the perfect bait to recapture Slash… and hopefully lure his boss out of hiding."

"I told you that this umpteenth attempt at creating supersoldiers was bound to fail. But did you listen to me? Of course not."

Stockman's tone was more resigned than whiny - he was just stating a fact. Bishop hated being remembered that he could be wrong, but he wasn't going to admit it.

"Get that submarine moving," he repeated, more threateningly.

"Maybe we should wait. If they detected it, they could…"

"Do it. Now."

Stockman threw up his metallic tentacles.

"If you're asking so nicely."

* * *

Inside Bishop's submarine, Leonardo, Michelangelo and Raphael were discussing their next move. Swimming didn't seem to be a good idea - they wouldn't see where to go, and there was the matter of the water pressure. None of them knew exactly what it would do to their body, but they weren't eager to find out.

"Too bad it's Don who's missing," Raphael mused. "He would have built us diving suits in no time. If only Mike had been captured instead…"

"I'm right here, Raph," Michelangelo protested.

Leonardo was looking eagerly at the control panel, trying to understand what the buttons and levers meant.

"Let me try," Michelangelo offered. "What do we have to lose, uh?"

"Our lives?" Raphael muttered, while Leonardo nodded to their brother.

Michelangelo ignored his sarcastic remark - _he_ was a mature turtle - and moved the lever in front of him. To his surprise, it actually worked - they could see on the radar image that their submarine was moving again.

"Ha! In your face, Raphie," he said.

* * *

"I don't think it's a good idea," Stockman repeated, even as one of his tentacles pushed a button and the submarine he was controlling advanced towards the other one.

"I'm not paying you to criticize me," Bishop retorted.

"You don't pay me nearly enough for the life I lead."

Two red dots appeared on screen, preventing Bishop from answering. He swore inwardly. His insufferable scientist was never going to leave it down.

And indeed, Stockman didn't.

"They have torpedoes," he said in a bored tone. "I told you it was a bad idea."

* * *

"This is a piece of cake. Leo, you should have let me pilot this ages ago! It's like a joystick, it…"

"Uh, Mike? What's this?" Leonardo cut him short, pointing at the two red dots that were now moving on the screen.

Towards their submarine.

"Uh… I don't know," Michelangelo answered. "It could be good. Or it could be bad."

"I'll tell you what my guess is," Raphael muttered.

"Raph, you're going to jinx us!" Michelangelo protested, trying to move other levers.

The submarine began moving frantically, left and right, up and down. Two new red dots materialized.

"Mike, stop that!" Leonardo shouted, as he grasped a metallic bar to avoid being thrown across the room.

Raphael did the same, while Michelangelo grabbed on to the levers, without moving them this time.

The submarine kept dancing madly.

"Mike!" Raphael sounded exasperated.

"It's not me!" Michelangelo protested as he released the levers to prove his point - which meant he had nothing left to hold onto. "I told you that you would jinx us! It's haunted now!"

"Or it's operated by remote control," Leonardo gritted out, catching Michelangelo by his shell and pulling him closer so he could grab the same bar as he had.

"Or that," Michelangelo conceded as he latched on to it for dear life.

A wise move, because the explosion that followed would most certainly have sent him flying across the room at high speed.

* * *

"What was that?" Bishop inquired as the monitor screen died.

"We lost the radar transmitter," Stockman admitted. He had been doing a fair job avoiding the torpedoes, but they were too numerous. It had only been a matter of time before one of them hit their submarine - or scratched it, to be precise. "And now I don't see what I'm doing."

"Get out of my way," Bishop gritted out, taking his place at the control panel.

"Without radar, we can't know where our target is," Stockman protested. "You could very well be moving away…"

Another monitor beeped, showing a sectional view of the submarine. A large portion of it was now distorted, as if it had just hit a massive body.

"Or I could be moving straight toward it," Bishop said in an extremely satisfied tone, after having checked that the three green dots - one for each of the turtles - were still moving.

Stockman shrugged his tentacles.

* * *

In his cell, Donatello felt the impact of the collision to his bones. He was thrown against the wall and picked himself up with a groan, massaging his sore shoulders and legs and head.

Red lights and threatening beeps established an unsettling atmosphere, to say the least, and Donatello hurried towards the door of his cell, trying to open it.

It wouldn't budge.

"Hello? Somebody?" he shouted, not really expecting an answer. After all, he hadn't _seen_ anybody since the beginning of his stay. His meals had been brought automatically through a hole in the wall.

The whistling he was hearing now was ominous, and now that he thought about it, breathing was becoming more difficult, too. If the submarine was losing his atmosphere…

 _At least it probably means that my brothers are here,_ Donatello thought calmly.

He sat down and began slowing his breathing to spare oxygen.

* * *

"Everybody alright?" Leonardo shouted.

"Yes," his brothers both answered.

The blue-masked turtle sighed in relief. From what he could see, and apart from the huge distortion, their submarine hadn't lost its impermeability.

"Then let's go. The impact came from here. We probably collided with Don's submarine."

"Is it good, or is it bad?" Michelangelo asked anxiously.

This time, Raphael didn't offer to share his guess.

* * *

"It looks old," Michelangelo noticed nervously. "Like it's going to crumble to pieces every instant."

They had managed to burst inside the other submarine, thanks to their shells and a few metallic bars pulled off the walls.

"Russian technology. From the Cold War, I'd say," Raphael stated, attracting himself a surprised glance from Leonardo. "What?"

"I love Russia," Michelangelo said dreamingly. "I was in Saint-Petersburg last month, it was one of the warmest welcome I ever had…"

"Not the time, Mike," Leonardo reminded him. His eyes scanned the area. "It looks empty. The collision should have attracted people…"

"A ghostly submarine?" Michelangelo whispered, his tone oscillating between wonder and fear.

"Let's find out," Raphael decided. "DON! DON, ARE YOU HERE?"

He ignored Leonardo's glare.

"Come on, Leo, they sent torpedoes at us. They know we're here, no need for stealth. If there is anybody at all, that is."

As if to prove his point, nothing stirred in the corridors.

"Alright." Leonardo nodded. "Then let's search the rooms one after the other. We need to find Don, and quick. It's harder to breathe in this submarine, there must be an air leak."

His brothers nodded, and they began searching the place for their missing brother.

* * *

Donatello felt his brothers' presence before he heard them. He opened his eyes and stood up.

"Guys! Guys, I'm in here!"

"Don!"

The three voices couldn't have sounded happier, or more familiar. Donatello felt himself grinning. He heard the metallic sound of somebody picking a lock, and soon enough the door to his cell opened.

"Don, I'm so happy to see you!" Michelangelo shouted excitedly, jumping on his brother.

"Mike, spare your breath," Leonardo whispered as he examined Donatello. His brother didn't seem to be hurt. Good. "Let's go back."

Raphael grabbed Donatello's arm, just in case he would be tempted to wander off and inspect the submarine that had been his prison, and the four turtles hurried back in silence through the empty corridors.

A silence that was broken by Donatello's indignant shout when he saw what his brothers had done to their submarine's wall.

"Guys, you know that you could have just unbolted this section, right? Instead of ripping it apart like… like…"

"Later, Don," Leonardo answered, crossing over.

His brothers quickly followed.

* * *

Bishop and Stockman both sighed in relief when they saw on screen the four green dots indicating that the turtles had managed to return to their submarine.

"Bring them back to New York," Bishop ordered.

"You better hope that they don't meet another submarine," Stockman muttered. "Or a sea monster. I remind you that they don't have a radar anymore."

"If you had avoided these torpedoes…" Bishop answered with bad faith.

* * *

Once they were all inside the relative safety of Bishop's submarine, Raphael and Michelangelo tried to seal the hole they had made the best they could.

"The air pressure is too low," Donatello whispered, already inspecting the place in search of anything useful. Like a soldering iron. "You shouldn't have left such a big hole open. It flew through it."

"Sorry," Raphael answered, rather sheepishly. "Is there anything you can do?"

Donatello couldn't help smiling as he found what he was looking for, and more - you could say what you wanted about Stockman, but the guy thought about everything. Most of the time.

"Of course. Stand back. This is between this delicate structure and me."

"Be our guest," Raphael said, grinning.

"And here are your oxygen masks," Donatello added as he threw white tubes to each of his brothers. Pull the string, like this… and place it on your snout, like this."

Once he was sure his brothers would be able to breathe, Donatello put on the protective glasses he had also found and began soldering.

As if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"Dude, have I missed you," Michelangelo sighed.

* * *

On dry land, an unlucky operator was looking at his screen with wide eyes. The lines flashing up could only mean one thing.

Well, two things. His boss' submarine had just sunk, and he was the one who had to report the news.

He really shouldn't have left his post to buy himself a sandwich for lunch.


	14. Time Flies By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Don is back at last!_   
>  _And now, it’s time to address the elephant in the room, so to speak. Don’t tell me you didn’t wonder._

Donatello was aware of his brothers' looks on him as he did his best to repair the damage they had done. He couldn't help smiling. It had been a long time since these three had been witnesses to his work.

"I'm fine, guys," he told them just in case, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

"Yeah, sure." Raphael snorted. "Nothing better than imprisonment to keep a turtle in good health."

"Did they feed you properly?" Michelangelo couldn't help worrying.

"Yes, Mike," Donatello reassured him. "Although to be honest, I never saw anyone, so I don't know who 'they' were. But the meals were nourishing."

"We didn't see anyone either," Leonardo noticed. "It seems that the submarine was remotely controlled."

"Like ours?" Michelangelo asked.

Donatello glanced at him. His brother sounded genuinely curious, and not at all upset that they had no control on their submarine's trajectory or destination.

He, on the other hand, had a problem with that.

Once he was reassured that his repairs would hold and they weren't going to sink, he switched off the soldering iron and stood up, inspecting the place again. The submarine was slowly moving away from the remnants of his prison, and Donatello assumed that they were heading back to New York. He let his hands wander on the control panel.

"Hey Leo, you're not going to tell Don to stay away from it?" Michelangelo joked, and Donatello assumed that the poor thing had been endangered at some point.

"It wouldn't be fair to deprive him from his new toy," Leonardo answered on the same tone. "I'm sure he missed this."

"Come on, guys, I don't need tech to survive," Donatello protested for the sheer joy of bantering with his brothers.

"Whatever you say, bro," Raphael teased him. "That big smile of yours is telling me another story."

"Just remember that it's Bishop's submarine," Leonardo said. "It's not to be trusted."

Donatello stroked the buttons and levers.

"Leo, look at this," he said dreamily. "How can you not trust it? It's not its fault if it has been in bad hands."

"Are you talking about Stockman or are you talking about us?" Michelangelo asked.

"Both, Mike." Donatello's deadpan look only managed to make his brothers chuckle.

"Just… be careful," Leonardo said fondly, and although he looked a bit concerned, Donatello could have sworn that he was enjoying that moment almost as much as he did.

The genius of the family rubbed his hands.

"Don't worry, Leo. I'm always careful."

* * *

Half an hour later, Donatello had found and deactivated the spy cameras and micros Stockman had hidden in the control room and regained control of the submarine, at the small price of putting cables everywhere and almost electrocuting himself - twice. Some of the traps supposed to prevent anybody from hacking the submarine were devious.

To be honest, he hadn't changed the trajectory that much - they were still heading for New York. But it made a whole world of difference to him knowing that _he_ had the upper hand.

This activity came with the nice bonus of allowing him to relax, and forget for a while that nothing was solved yet. He still didn't know who had imprisoned him, nor remembered what he had been doing the day of his kidnapping.

Donatello stretched with a sigh. The submarine was confined, and his brothers were squeezed on the other side of the control room, apparently satisfied with watching him - and staying away from the tangle of crackling wires.

"Everything is under control," he told them proudly.

"Ha," Raphael said. "I bet Bishop won't be too happy about that."

"He should have known that his submarine wasn't Donatello-proof," Michelangelo added with obvious pride.

"Guys, we need to work on a plan," Leonardo stated. "We agreed to capture Slash for Bishop, and we'll stick to our word - but on our terms, not his."

"Agreed." Raphael nodded. "But maybe we could chat a bit before that. It has been a long time since we've all been reunited in the same room."

"The same confined, stinky, oxygen-deprived room," Michelangelo completed.

Leonardo smiled.

"Alright."

The four of them kept silent for a while, as if no one knew where to begin or what to say. Unsurprisingly, Michelangelo spoke first, but instead of the teasing questions he had intended to ask his brothers - light banter and stupid jokes, like they used to - he found himself asking the question which had been on his mind since Leonardo's return, the one that opened the door to painful memories.

But the presence of his three brothers gave him strength.

"Leo? How… How was Splinter last time you saw him?"

He regularly sent his father videos, letters and gifts, but he hadn't been in his presence in a long time.

Leonardo hesitated.

"He was… as well as possible, I guess," he said softly.

* * *

_New York City, two years ago_

It had begun with the simplest things - a cup of cold tea lying forgotten on its plate, a cane hiding in the weirdest place, conversations interrupted and never resumed - and none of the turtles would have been able to point out exactly when it had happened, but one way or the other all four of them had come to the same conclusion.

Master Splinter was aging.

He never complained, but he slowly stopped to train with them, and spent most of his time in his favorite armchair.

Until one night he invited his four sons to join him in the dojo.

None of them would ever forget the conversation that ensued. The room was illuminated by candles, and Master Splinter was sitting cross-legged in his usual spot. If the posture was painful for his joints, he didn't let it show.

The wise rat waited for his sons to sit down in front of him before speaking, his voice as soft and steady as ever.

"My sons. I must face the facts. My body and mind aren't what they once were."

With a swift move of his paw, he cut off his sons' protests that he was, all things considered, in top shape.

"You don't need to… to…what's the word? Ah, yes. _Sugarcoat_ it. My life is behind me - a life that was already extended by my mutation."

"I could work on a cure," Donatello offered, almost desperately.

"Donatello, my always so generous son, old age isn't an illness you can cure," Splinter told him gently. "I've been blessed with four marvelous sons, and I couldn't be more proud of them. It's time for me to leave."

"Le-leave?" Michelangelo stammered.

"I've meditated at length on this matter," Splinter said serenely. "I don't want you to witness my decline, or force you to take care of my bodily needs when I won't be able to tend to them. I'll go to the Battle Nexus - the Daimyo once told me that I would always be welcome here. I'll be well looked after."

"We don't mind taking care of you," Leonardo whispered, so softly the words were barely audible. "It would be an honor."

"Leonardo," Splinter said affectionately. "Allow this old rat to be egoistic. Allow him to keep his dignity to the very end."

He looked at his four sons, noticing Raphael's clenched fists, Donatello's pleading look, Michelangelo's shock, Leonardo's forlorn expression.

His voice didn't break.

"My decision is final."

It had taken a few weeks to organize Splinter's departure. The lair had felt empty after that, and by common consent the turtles had spent more and more time on the surface, on patrol or at April's place, or just enjoying New York City by night.

Then Bishop's actions had changed their lives forever.

* * *

"Do you sometimes wonder how things would have gone if Splinter had made another choice?" Michelangelo asked Leonardo, his head resting against Donatello's plastron and his legs extended so that his feet were right under Raphael's nose.

"Dwelling on the past is useless, Mike," Leonardo replied softly.

"Alright, alright. But… do you?"

His brother's silence was an answer in itself.


	15. Of Actions and Consequences

Stockman glanced at Bishop. To the blessed simpleton, he looked perfectly collected. But the scientist knew better, and from the slight twitching of Bishop's right eye, he could tell that his boss was aggravated.

He kept tapping away at his control panel, refraining from saying aloud any of the snarky remarks his brilliant mind kept devising.

Of course Donatello would try to hack the submarine's security system - that was what happened when you let geniuses within a one-mile radius of state-of-the-art technology. Stockman had estimated at twenty-three minutes the time it would take the turtle to have full control of the submarine. It was a personal victory for him that Donatello had, in fact, taken twenty nine and thirty-two seconds to accomplish that feat.

In all honesty, Stockman could have made it harder for his rival, but he still resented Bishop for the torpedo incident. He had worked hard on the submarine's radar.

"Are you sure that we lost them?" Bishop repeated, not even bothering to hide the threat in his voice.

Stockman moved his robotic tentacles to mimic a shrug. He knew it made his boss uneasy.

"I had one last tracer on the hull, but unfortunately it got destroyed when a torpedo grazed my miracle of technology," he answered pointedly.

Bishop didn't even have the good grace to look contrite.

"You should have put more than one tracer, then," he replied coldly.

Stockman refrained from smashing the guy against the control panel. Maybe he would have, if he didn't know all too well that Bishop's enhanced body wouldn't feel any pain. He blamed himself for that - he was the one who had crafted that body and unfortunately, he had applied his usual professionalism to the task.

"The're heading for New York City anyways," he said instead. "I remind you that's where two of them live."

"They better remember our deal." Bishop's fingers intertwined with grace. "Nobody betrays me without paying the price."

 _In that, you remind me of the Shredder,_ Stockman thought somberly.

"I believe they will honor their end of the deal. However annoying they may be, these turtles tend to keep their word. It's such a shame that the same cannot be said of everybody in this room."

Although he wasn't looking at Bishop, he could hear his teeth grinding - a very satisfying sound.

"Let me know as soon as you have news of them," his boss ordered.

"Of course, Sir." His tone was ambivalent enough to avoid being accused of disrespect - not that Bishop really cared about that as long as he did his job. "My pleasure."

He listened to Bishop's footsteps leaving, then grabbed an old crossword puzzle magazine.

According to his calculations, the turtles wouldn't be in New York for a few hours.

* * *

Slash sighed in relief. The route to his boss' lair wasn't an easy one - the mutant enjoyed heights, while Slash hated them with a passion he had never dared to admit.

It wasn't that he was afraid of heights, no - and as long as he didn't look down, he didn't sweat more than usual nor felt dizzy nor had a dry throat. It was just… inconvenient. Turtles like him weren't meant to climb buildings, especially not when said buildings had hundreds of floors.

Besides, there was always a draft in the lair. His boss never bothered to close the windows - not that Slash would have dared to complain.

At first sight, the chief of the Humans Are Too Entitled group didn't look as dangerous as he was - in fact, he didn't look dangerous at all. He was so tiny.

But Slash knew better.

"What's the news, Slash?"

Slash bowed the best he could - his huge shell wasn't as flexible as he would have liked. He turned his tongue nervously in his mouth, trying to remember the speech he had rehearsed.

There was no easy way to explain to your boss that you had messed up.

"The building collapsed as planned, but it didn't kill the turtle named Raphael. I have searched the city for him. There is no trace of him, it's like he disappeared into thin air. He's probably hiding from me…"

His boss nodded vaguely, as if the conversation was boring him.

"And what about the boy?"

Slash swallowed hard.

"We parted after the building collapsed, and I haven't seen him since," he admitted. "Mondo was pretty upset because of the girl we met - he said she looked nice."

His boss shook his head.

"He's too young to recognize evil when he encounters it. Humans cannot be trusted."

"I know, Boss. I told him that. I assume he needed time to think on his own."

"Slash, Slash. With a skull your size, I would have thought that your brain worked better than that."

Slash stiffened. His boss grinned.

"Let me help you, my faithful minion," the mutant whispered. "Your Raphael left on a submarine with two of his brothers, in order to find the third. And the boy is rotting in a cell as we speak."

Slash's eyes widened in horror.

"He was arrested? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was waiting for _you_ to tell me," his boss cooed.

Slash looked away. He should have known better than to delay - his boss knew everything that happened in his city.

"The turtles should be back soon," the leader went on. "And they will be looking for you - you won't even have to chase them down. In the meantime, I suggest you free our young friend. He may be inexperienced and naïve right now, but he has potential. That tongue of his is remarkable."

Slash watched uneasily as his boss used his own prodigious tongue to wet his lips. He knew how poisonous his saliva was.

"It goes without saying," Slash muttered. It wasn't going to be easy - police stations in New York had been upgraded after the mutant outbreak. He couldn't just show up and destroy everything in his path.

"Good. When it will be done, you will begin working on another trap for Raphael and his brothers - a better trap. I want them out of the game as soon as possible."

Slash nodded.

"And, Slash…" The other mutant's tongue lashed and stopped one inch from Slash's face, poison dripping from it.

"Don't disappoint me again."

* * *

Mondo's feet kept tapping the floor in rhythm as he sang his favorite songs in his head, over and over and over.

It helped him not to think about the fact he was in a cell again. Muzzled to prevent him from using his tongue against the policemen.

Granted, nobody had hurt him this time - at least not yet. But the memories he was fighting brought tears to his gecko's eyes.

If at least he had a TV, he could have watched a rerun of Michelangelo's show. It had been the only thing that had kept him remotely sane, the first time.

 _He promised that he would visit me,_ he thought, chanting the words in his head. _And invite me when I would be released. He said he wanted to be my friend._

Mondo wanted to believe that Michelangelo didn't approve of his treatment. He probably didn't even know the details - a kind soul like him wouldn't muzzle anybody. It was downright impossible. His brother Raphael, on the other hand, hadn't hesitated.

Maybe Slash was right. Maybe mutants like Raphael couldn't be trusted - maybe they had been corrupted. The huge turtle had always been nice to him - and he had been the one to free him, the first time. But he had also mistreated the woman, Angel, and Mondo couldn't approve of that, no matter how hard he tried.

Angel. She had been nice to him too - after she had kicked him between the legs, that was. She had said he was courageous. Maybe she wouldn't have let Raphael arrest him if she had known exactly what he had gone through because of cops and their like.

Maybe he should have told her, or Michelangelo.

Michelangelo who hadn't come to visit him yet.

 _He must be busy,_ Mondo thought. _It's no wonder for a star like him. But he'll keep his word, I know it._

_I know it._

Alone in his cell, Mondo sang in his head over and over.

Trying to keep the ghosts of his past at bay.

Waiting.

* * *

When Michelangelo, Raphael, Leonardo and Donatello finally arrived in New York City, they left the submarine in the bay with a note pinned to the control panel - _See you soon, Bishop, don't overdo yourself in the meantime._ An attentive examination of the reverse side of said note would have revealed that the original message had been phrased quite differently - _We'll contact you later_ \- but apparently somebody had considered it was too formal.

That somebody was now stretching and taking deep breathes of the city's polluted air.

"Guys, we did it! We're back!" Isn't it awesome?" Michelangelo grinned.

"There is no place like home," Raphael said pointedly for the sake of his two other brothers.

Leonardo gave no reaction indicating he had heard the subtext.

"I would like to talk to your boss as soon as possible, Raph." His eyes scanned the area. "We know far too little to my taste."

"And I'd like to talk to my colleague Rockwell," Donatello said. "I need to know how things are in the lab."

"Let's go to my place first," Michelangelo suggested. "I'm sure Don needs his rest."

"I'm fine, Mike," Donatello protested. "I've done nothing more than wait for days!"

"Did you have a comfy bed? A warm quilt? Soft pillows?" Michelangelo asked rhetorically. "It's not called rest unless you have them."

Donatello tilted his head, ready to explain why he disagreed with that statement, when Raphael put a hand on his upper arm.

"Don, it really pains me to say so, but I think Mike is right."

"But we have no time to lose! My rescue can't have gone unnoticed. You sank a submarine!"

Raphael shrugged. He didn't feel particularly guilty about it.

"Let's go to Mike's apartment," Leonardo decided. "Don, you can contact your colleague from there, right?" He waited for Donatello's nod before going on. "It's as good a place as any to establish our base."

Raphael rolled his eyes at Leonardo's use of military vocabulary. He almost said that the lair would do as fine and was more hidden than Michelangelo's place, but he didn't know how comfortable his brothers would be with the suggestion - the place was, after all, filled with memories of their sane, healthy father, and he didn't want to scare his brothers away from New York.

"Perfect! I'll show you the way. Follow me!" Michelangelo exclaimed, grinning.

His grin disappeared as soon as they came near his apartment block. A crowd of reporters were encircling the building, trying to force their way through a security cordon.

"What's happening?" he exclaimed, aghast, and he would have rushed to them if Leonardo hadn't grabbed his arm.

"Wait, Mike," he whispered. "Is there any other way to come inside? By the rooftops, maybe?"

Michelangelo nodded grimly, his eyes set on the crowd.

"Then let's take that route. Don't confront them until you know what the problem is."

"I think I know what the problem is," Donatello said slowly. He had grabbed Leonardo's phone to do a quick Internet search. Without another word, he turned the phone so his brothers could see the results.

_Another star in rehab - Harder they fall - Seen for the last time in a clinic…_

Michelangelo's jaw dropped.

"What? I don't do drugs!"

"Are you sure?" Raphael mused. "It would explain a lot."

Michelangelo glared at him.

"Know, my dear brother, that I am perfectly clean."

Leonardo watched Michelangelo worriedly.

"Let's go inside," he suggested.

* * *

Timothy was pacing back and forth inside Michelangelo's apartment. In the year he had been Michelangelo's manager, he had tackled very delicate situations - but this one had to be one of the most delicate. He hadn't dared to look at the social networks yet. They must be in uproar.

If only Michelangelo had been there when the rumor had begun spreading, maybe they could have nipped it in the bud. Alas, his star had disappeared to run some errand with his brothers - without giving him any warning - and the speculations had grown out of control.

The plump manager jerked when he heard Michelangelo's voice.

"Tim, what's going on?"

Timothy turned around to see his star enter through an open window, followed by no less than three turtles just like him. He blinked hard to make sure he wasn't seeing double.

Michelangelo noticed his surprise and waved a hand at the other turtles.

"Tim, my brothers. You already know Raph and Leo, and the one who's fiddling with the phone is Don."

"There is no security system at all on this device," Donatello protested. "And it's supposed to be Leo's phone! We can't have that."

"Thanks, Don," Leonardo replied. "But couldn't it have waited until we were done jumping over rooftops?"

"Apparently not," Raphael commented.

Donatello ignored his brothers' wry remarks and nodded to acknowledge Timothy's presence.

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Timothy managed to say. He quickly turned his attention back to Michelangelo.

"Mike, what were you thinking? I can't imagine what you've been doing, but these reporters downstairs can. They're picturing you as a junkie all over the Internet!"

Michelangelo wrung his hands.

"Why would they think that?" he complained.

"That's the gutter press to you," Raphael spat. He didn't like to see his brother this distressed.

"I'll talk to them," Michelangelo decided. "I'll settle this once and for all."

Donatello raised his head to look at him.

"Mike, I don't think it's a good idea. These people don't care about the truth, or about you. All they want is drama."

Michelangelo shook his head, refusing to believe that the reporters who had praised him to the skies would turn against him so easily.

"Make yourself at home, guys. I'll be back in no time!"

He ran to the entrance door before anyone could try to stop him. A split second later, his brothers and Timothy rushed after him.

The door slammed in their faces as Michelangelo left the building. They soon heard his voice addressing the reporters outside.

"Guys, I'm glad you're worried about me, but I'm perfectly healthy, look!"

The crowd roared.

"He's there!"

"Why have you been hiding?"

"Mike! Mike, answer me!"

"Look! What is he wearing?"

"Nunchucks! They are very dangerous weapons!"

Inside, Timothy's eyes widened in horror, but there was nothing he could do.

If possible, the reporters' shouts became even more frantic.

"Maybe he wasn't treated for drugs! Maybe he was treated for mental disorders!"

"No, I…" Michelangelo's voice was on the verge of panic.

"He's a maniac!"

"He shouldn't be allowed to perform before an underage audience!"

Raphael clenched his fists.

"That's enough," he whispered. "We get Mike out of there, now!"

Leonardo nodded grimly. Raphael had his hand on the handle when the door burst open. Michelangelo hurried inside, closing it behind him.

He leaned heavily against the door, unaware of the fact his body was trembling, and forced a smile when he noticed his brothers' presence.

"It's okay," he said miserably. "I'm okay."


	16. Taking Matters in Hand

It was obvious to everyone that Michelangelo wasn't okay. The Internet was going crazy with posts and tweets spreading the news that Mike, the worldwide star, was a dangerous maniac. Pictures of him with his nunchucks on his belt were analyzed. Pseudo-experts pretended to have predicted it.

"He's a mutant," they wrote. "They're dangerous by nature."

Michelangelo had gone straight to his computer to read the articles, despite knowing perfectly well it was a bad idea. Their content was sickening him. What had he ever done to deserve that? He had brought fun and happiness to thousands of humans and mutants, dedicating his life to them, and now…

Timothy had briefly left them to speak with the guards about enhancing safety precautions. Raphael was reading the articles over his brother's shoulder, his frown getting deeper by the minute.

"A serial killer? You?" he burst at a blog post wilder than the others. "That's ridiculous. Have they all lost their brains?"

"They're reacting like a gigantic crowd," Donatello supplied. "There is nothing rational in that."

Michelangelo turned towards his brother, hiding as best he could how upset he was. It was the first time in months that Donatello and Leonardo were in New York, and that was what they came home to? It was disheartening.

His only solace was that a fair number of his early fans were defending him tooth and nail.

"They'll come around," he said bravely. "They will realize how stupid it is and stop hating me."

Leonardo, who was watching the crowd outside from behind the curtains, didn't comment, nor did Donatello. Raphael, however, snorted. Michelangelo gave him a dejected glance, and he sighed.

"Hey, Mike." He nudged his brother. "Not everybody hates you."

"I know. I still have fans defending me."

Raphael crossed his arms. It wasn't what he had implied. He didn't want to expand, but Michelangelo looked so desperate that he felt compelled to do so.

"I meant us, you idiot."

For the first time since they had reached his flat, Michelangelo smiled for real.

"Aww, Raphie. You're being so nice!"

Raphael stifled a sigh. He hated showing his soft side, but the cause had been right. From the corner of his eye, he caught Leonardo and Donatello smiling knowingly at each other, and he glared at them both. Leonardo grinned at him and moved from his place at the window to put a hand on Michelangelo's shoulder.

"Mike. We still have to find Slash, the sooner the better. Bishop won't wait forever. Are you up to it?"

Michelangelo met his brother's gaze.

"Of course, Leo! I'm with you guys." With a determined gesture, he unplugged his computer. The screen switched off. "This is not important anyways."

"If you don't need your computer anymore," Donatello interjected, his tone stiff because he was trying to refrain from making an educating comment about the right way to turn off computers, "I could use it."

"Sure, Don. Be my guest." Michelangelo gave Donatello his seat, completely oblivious to his discreet sigh when he plugged in the computer and a warning displayed on the screen, complaining about the rude treatment.

"What are you doing, Don?" Leonardo asked, curious.

"I'm contacting my collegue, Dr Rockwell. On his secure inbox. If he's available, we can chat online, and if he's not, I'll leave him a message."

Donatello opened the command line and got to work. Leonardo tilted his head.

"Rockwell has a secure inbox? Why didn't you tell me?"

"The messaging protocol isn't standard and requires a two hundred and thirty-three characters long password, all characters being random," Donatello replied absent-mindedly. "I couldn't write it down on a piece of paper when we were talking in the astral plane, so I thought it would be easier for you to memorize phone numbers."

Raphael grinned.

"I say you were right to keep it simple. Anything else wouldn't have been in Leo's league."

Leonardo wanted to protest, but Michelangelo was smiling for real again, apparently relieved not to be the focus of attention this time, so he settled for glaring at Raphael instead. His brother grinned wider.

Donatello finished entering his commands and closed the command line.

"It's done, guys. He wasn't there. I've told him I was safe, and asked him to leave me a message. It could take him a few hours to answer."

"Then let's see Raph's boss." The words sounded strange to Leonardo. If he was honest with himself, he had to recognize he was very curious to meet the man.

"But this time, not by submarine," Michelangelo joked.

He still felt upset, but he was determined to keep going the best he could, and to focus on his brothers' presence.

The four turtles were heading for the window when Timothy entered the room again. The plump manager froze in disbelief.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside," Michelangelo answered, stating the obvious.

"Mike, you need to keep a low profile! Let everyone settle down. You can't be seen wandering through the city right now!" Timothy was shaking his head wildly, as if he couldn't believe nobody else understood that.

"I won't be wandering though the city, I'll be keeping a promise."

With that, Michelangelo disappeared through the window, leaving a fuming Timothy inside his flat.

* * *

"We need disguises," Leonardo said, running at his brothers' side. "We don't want to attract attention."

Raphael refrained from saying that mutants were allowed in the surface now, and they shouldn't have to hide. Michelangelo was too famous, and the four of them looked too alike.

"Back to the basics, I guess," he sighed. "Well. I know where to find the best-stocked clotheslines."

"And may I ask how?" Leonardo inquired, suspicious.

Raphael threw up his hands.

"Hey. I never said I was a standard cop!"

A few minutes later, four plump ladies were walking in the streets near Raphael's police station.

"The best-stocked clotheslines, uh?" Donatello smoothed his purple dress. "I must say, I thought you would go for something more… for something less…"

"Loose clothes make it easier to move." Raphael shrugged. "I rarely found close-fitting suits my size on clotheslines, genius."

"It's not that I disagree," Donatello went on. "I'm just impressed by your maturity."

"Hey." Raphael couldn't say that he wasn't pleased by the remark. He nudged his brother. "You're not the only clever turtle in this family, remember that."

Donatello grinned and was about to reply when Leonardo and Michelangelo, who had been walking a few feet in front of them, both froze. He hurried to see why they had stopped.

"What the shell?" Raphael exclaimed. His outburst scared a bunch of pigeons who flew away.

Another crowd of reporters was encircling the police station. The men, women and occasional mutants were staying at a safe distance - they had no wish to be arrested - but they were pacing around the place, talking to each other and keeping an eye on their surroundings.

"What are they waiting for?" Donatello mused. "Who's inside?"

"Well, apart from Mondo and your occasional drunk, only my colleagues," Raphael answered.

Michelangelo spun so fast that his skirt took the shape of a corolla.

"Wait, what? Mondo is still inside? I thought you were going to release him after his interrogation!"

"He's Slash's partner," Raphael replied vividly to hide his embarrassment. "Of course we weren't going to release him just like that! Besides, he didn't even try to cooperate!"

"He saved our lives!"

"Guys, be quiet," Leonardo hushed them. "We don't want to attract attention."

A few reporters had noticed the two ladies quarrelling.

"Why would they care about a bunch of ladies?" Raphael replied.

"They're bored," Donatello stated. "Any distraction is welcome. We need to be especially careful, our disguises won't withstand a close examination."

"Do you think they're there for Mondo?" Leonardo asked Raphael. He didn't know much about the gecko mutant, apart from the fact that Michelangelo had befriended him and that he had helped to save his brothers' lives. In Leonardo's opinion, it made him a very decent guy - but he was also linked to Slash, who had tried to kill said brothers.

"I'm going to ask them," Michelangelo said with determination.

"Mike," Leonardo warned him.

"Don't worry, Leo, I've got this."

Leonardo sighed heavily as Michelangelo minced down the street towards the closest reporter, hiding his face behind a scarf.

Raphael shrugged. "Well, it won't be the first time he's mimicking a lady. Remember when we were in space?"

Michelangelo was now simpering and pressing his gloved hands against his heart, as if the reporter's answer was the most fascinating sentence he had ever heard. Donatello shook his head.

"This is supposed to be the way ladies behave? Pray that April never learns you said that."

"Bro, she'll never know unless you tell on me." Raphael winked.

"At least they don't seem to recognize him." Leonardo watched the other reporters. They were beginning to stir. "But he better hurry. As Don said, his disguise won't withstand a close examination."

Luckily, Michelangelo was already coming back to them.

"They're waiting for you," he immediately said, looking at Raphael. "To…" He hesitated, and finished his sentence almost sheepishly. "To interview you. About me."

"I thought they had given up on that," Raphael spat.

The last time a reporter had tried to pry juicy stories about Michelangelo from him, it hadn't ended well.

For the reporter, that was.

"Apparently the stakes are higher now." Leonardo watched their surroundings. "Is there any other way to come inside?"

Raphael tilted his head.

"Well, there is always the secret entrance…"

He crossed his arms when his brothers exchanged deadpan glances. He didn't need to be told to know what they were thinking.

"And how was I supposed to know I would need it? I'm not the famous guy in this family, Mike is!"

"Yes," Michelangelo muttered. "I am."

His tone was so sad that Raphael immediately felt guilty.

"Let's use it, then," Leonardo said softly.

Raphael nodded.

"This way."

* * *

Slash was carrying his last crate of knockout gas bottles inside his new lair when he received the text.

_Use the secret entrance._

His heart beat faster as he looked at the pictures accompanying the text. His boss was giving him the perfect gift.

The first was seen from the sky. Four turtles were jumping down a manhole, a pile of women clothes next to them.

The second picture showed a crowd of reporters around a police station. It was the exact police station where Mondo was being held captive - trying to break in by the entrance door would be suicidal, the police was on high alert ever since the fake bomb business. The collapsing of a building on one of their own, followed by the capture of one of _his_ own, had done nothing to calm them down.

But if he came from inside, and had the element of surprise…

Slash looked again at the picture of the four turtles. He had a bone to pick with Raphael. He had nothing against the three others, however - they would be collateral damage, nothing more.

"You want me?" he whispered, his teeth showing. "I'm coming."

He was going to kill two birds with one stone.


	17. Confusion

Leonardo's hand grazed the sewer wall. It had been a long time since he had last been in New York City's sewer. It felt odd, both familiar and out of place.

His gaze followed Raphael's shadow as his brother led the way to the police station's hidden door. He didn't like the way things were turning out - too many unknowns, both about their enemies' intentions and about his brothers' situation. Even if Donatello didn't seem to suffer any consequences from his imprisonment, he still had partial amnesia from the circumstances of his kidnapping and Leonardo knew it was bothering him a lot. Michelangelo did his best to hide his hurt, and he was very resourceful, but the turmoil his persona was into didn't help him to be at the peak of his abilities.

Besides, Leonardo could have sworn that his brother hadn't been training as much as he pretended to - he probably hadn't been training at all. Not that Leonardo blamed him for that - he had been tremendously busy these past months. It just wasn't convenient in their current predicament. The same went for Donatello.

_We could all use some training, it has been way too long since we fought together._

The only one Leonardo wasn't worried about was Raphael. He knew that his brother kept fighting on a regularly basis, and he was more patient too - as if he was at peace with himself and his role in this world.

 _At least one of us does,_ Leonardo thought.

Leonardo's world had taken an unexpected turn the day his father had departed.

 _Go with the flow. Embrace change_ , the Ancient One's voice had whispered in his ear, and Leonardo had tried to do so.

How hard it was to embrace change when change was your father fading away.

The mutant outbreak had been a relief - a new big change in their lives, allowing them to make a new start, to follow almost forgotten dreams.

Still, the doubt lingered. Had he been right to allow them to go their own separate ways?

_Go with the flow._

Raphael stopped in front of an insignificant wall section of the sewers and pressed several points with his flat hands, his expression focused. The wall slid, revealing a narrow passage.

"Gentlemen, this way."

Leonardo forced his mind to focus on the present.

"Won't your colleagues be surprised to see four turtles come inside?" he asked. "Maybe you should go first."

Raphael smiled.

"Alright. You three can wait inside the passage. If you're well-behaved, I'll go back and get you."

"Are you going to be the judge of whether or not we're well-behaved?" Michelangelo asked. "Because I have issues with the idea."

"Let me rephrase. I'll get Leo and Don, and Mike can stay here anyways."

Leonardo watched the bickering with a half-smile.

Some things never changed.

* * *

Raphael ran through the passageway. He pushed the door on the other side and entered the storeroom of the police station. He hurried to Detective Kurtzman's office, ignoring the baffled looks of some of his colleagues, and knocked at his door.

"Yes?"

"Detective Kurtzman," Raphael greeted the man, entering the room and closing the door behind him. "I'm glad to find you here."

Kurtzman tossed the file he had been reading on the table and looked at Raphael in incredulity.

"Raphael? Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for hours! Have you any idea how long this crowd has been outside?"

Raphael refrained from making a witty comment. Of course his boss would be mad. He had kept repeating him to stay out of the press, and now dozens of reporters were waiting around his police station to interview him.

However, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

"I've been busy," he said. "Family business."

Kurtzman rubbed his temples.

"Family business? Is there any link with your brother's mysterious disappearance? I've had the governor on my back!"

 _You have no idea,_ Raphael thought.

"Yes, about that. Mike has come back, and it didn't go well." Raphael crossed his arms. Obviously his boss hadn't watched the news in the last hour. "I would appreciate if you avoided mentioning it to him."

Kurtzman frowned. "You brought him here? Raphael…" He cut himself short and shook his head. "I wasn't talking about Michelangelo. I know he has come back - it's hard to miss, the Internet is in uproar. I was talking about your other brother, Donatello."

Raphael narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious.

"Don? My brother who's doing ground-breaking research somewhere in this country, and I'm not allowed to know where? I thought you had nothing to do with him, or the people he works for. Isn't it what you told me?"

Kurtzman smoothed the file he had been reading, his face expressionless. "In times of need, old friends can be called for help."

Raphael bent forward to take a look at the file. It was closed, but the huge "CONFIDENTIAL" made him suspicious. He glared at Kurtzman.

"Donatello's disappearance is concerning people in high places," the man explained, meeting Raphael's gaze. "It's a matter of national security, except the federal police is clueless. If you know something, _anything_ , please share it with me."

Raphael had come here for that exact reason, but now he wasn't sure what to say. He had always trusted Kurtzman, though, and he decided to follow his gut. He nodded.

"Oh, I know something alright." He grinned. "But maybe you'd rather listen to it from Don himself?"

Despite the circumstances, Raphael thoroughly enjoyed the expression on Kurtzman's face.

"I'll be right back."

* * *

A few minutes later, the four turtles were in Detective Kurtzman's office, telling him their story. The man's gaze went from Donatello, to Michelangelo, to Leonardo, and again to Donatello. It was hard to tell whether he was more surprised to see the missing top-scientist in his office, or to learn that Raphael had a third brother. The detective's gaze lingered on Leonardo's katana, but he said nothing.

"And that's all I can remember," Donatello finished explaining.

Kurtzman took a deep breath.

"Are you sure that nobody was in that submarine?"

"We didn't see nor hear anybody," Leonardo answered.

"I could have found answers if I had been granted the chance to investigate the control room," Donatello said with melancholy.

His three brothers looked at him with a deadpan expression.

"Somebody remind him that the submarine was sinking." Raphael sighed.

"Don, the submarine was sinking," Michelangelo complied.

"Just a quick glance couldn't have hurt," Donatello protested in spite of the fact he was clearly outnumbered.

"It could have, Don," Leonardo stated. "I assure you."

Kurtzman stood up.

"This is deeply concerning. I'll share the news with… trustworthy people. Can I trust you to remain safe while I investigate?"

"Don't worry, I'll be careful," Donatello replied.

"And if he's not, we'll be careful for him," Raphael whispered. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"Good." Kurtzman smiled at Raphael. "It would probably be for the best if you stayed with your brothers, I suppose. Just…" The man frowned. "Do me a favor and buy yourself a new phone."

Raphael grinned sheepishly.

"Of course, Detective. No problem."

"You can call me in the meantime," Leonardo interjected. "I'll give you my phone number. And about these trustworthy people you mentioned…" Leonardo looked Kurtzman in the eye. "Considering how well-protected Don's research facility is, there must be a traitor amongst the agents. I'd advise you to be careful."

The man nodded. "I will."

"Now that this is settled, I have an important question," Michelangelo said, glaring at both Kurtzman and Raphael. "Where is Mondo? I want to pay him a visit."

* * *

Michelangelo followed Raphael to Mondo's cell while Leonardo and Donatello stayed with Kurtzman to talk about Slash. He ignored the astounded whispers of the cops behind him and waited until his brother had unbolted the cell door. He could hear the sounds of feet tapping the ground and soft whispers.

"I have to lock you inside with him, Mike," Raphael said. "Be careful, okay? And, there is something you should know…"

Raphael looked embarrassed and Michelangelo frowned.

"Yes, Raph? What is it?"

"He's… restrained," Raphael said reluctantly. "So he won't try to attack anybody. Don't freak out."

"What do you mean, 'restrained'?" Michelangelo demanded, feeling angry. "He's already in a cell!"

Before Raphael had time to answer, a quiet voice was heard from inside the cell.

"Mike? Is that you?"

"Hey, Mondo! How are you, my friend?" Michelangelo replied, giving his brother a last glare before hurrying inside. He heard Raphael's grumble as he locked the door and left to join the others in their planning.

Michelangelo took a step forward and his eyes immediately fell upon the mutant gecko who had saved his life only a few days before, and who was sitting on a metal bench with his arms around his body.

He tried to hide his surprise and horror at the sight of the muzzle.

"I'm fi-fine, Mike," Mondo answered, beaming as if this was the best day of his life. "I'm so gl-glad you could come. I knew you wouldn't forget me!"

Michelangelo made a huge effort to keep smiling and look Mondo in the eye. Somebody was going to remove this muzzle. The bigger the scene he would have to make, the better. He needed to vent anyways.

But this could wait until he had chatted a bit with Mondo. The gecko must feel even more miserable than he did - to the best of Michelangelo's knowledge, he had no family worthy of the name. He sat down next to him.

"Of course I didn't forget you. I'm sorry I didn't come earlier."

"It's no problem at all," Mondo insisted.

* * *

Slash decided that he had waited long enough and moved towards the hidden entrance. Repeating Raphael's gestures, he opened the passageway and disappeared inside. He was in front of the door leading inside the police station in no time, and grinned as he put on an oxygen mask.

Still grinning, he began opening the bottle of knockout gas he was carrying.

* * *

Donatello was listening intently to Kurtzman's report of everything he knew about Slash. They had explained to the cop that they wanted to capture the giant mutant turtle once and for all, although they hadn't revealed that they would have to hand him over to Bishop.

Kurtzman hadn't asked. Maybe he didn't suspect anything, or maybe he didn't care as long as Slash was out of the picture.

Something kept bothering him, however. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe… Was he so out of shape that a short run through the sewers had exhausted him?

Donatello shook his head. No, it was something else… Something he couldn't point his finger at… Exactly like when he was trying to remember what had happened the day of his capture…

And suddenly, he understood.

"Guys!" he shouted, adrenaline rushing in his veins. "Sleeping gas!"

Leonardo turned around and ran to the door, pulling his mask over his mouth and unsheathing his katana.

"I'll fetch Mike!" he said, avoiding shouting to spare his breath. "You two check the hidden passage, see if we can escape that way!"

Raphael nodded and took his sai. Donatello didn't move, too focused on the memories that were slowly coming back to him.

_He had skipped lunch to keep working on his last invention - a new scanner respectful of mutants' particular DNA, usual X-ray and IRM scanners had proven more harmful to them than they were to humans - and was looking for additional information in the laboratory database, when something had struck him as odd._

Behind him, Detective Kurtzman had drawn a gun and was gesturing something to Raphael.

_He had investigated, of course - and his curiosity had only grown stronger when he had seen the two words printed on his screen. 'Access denied.'_

"Don? Don, don't breathe! Sleeping gas, remember?" somebody shouted in his ear. Donatello paid him no attention. He was remembering alright, and he _knew_ it was essential…

_It took him a few minutes to circumvent the obstacle and read the files. He had frozen in horror, then. It described a scheme against mutants, on a scale unheard of. The very scanner he was helping to build - a scanner that was going to be used in every hospital and clinic in the country, beginning with New York - would be altered to irradiate them. They would take weeks to die, but die they would._

_The first tests on living subjects would be done in less than one week. He had no time to lose - he needed help. Luckily, his favorite colleague was in his office - he too regularly skipped lunch. He had run to him, told him what he had discovered, and Rockwell's eyes had widened in horror. They had begun planning their next move, trying to guess whether or not the director of the research facility was involved, and then…_

_Blackout._

"Don!"

* * *

Slash ran to the cells. Using his prodigious strength, he bent the bars before deciding that ripping the door off would be as efficient.

Entering Mondo's cell, he noticed that both him and one of the turtles - the famous one, Mike was his name - had fallen on the floor, sound asleep.

He growled when he saw Mondo's muzzle. He was about to trample on the turtle who dared to be an accomplice of humans treating mutants so badly, famous or not, when something made him hesitate.

Mondo's arm was wrapped around the turtle's neck, as if he had been in deep conversation with an old friend. Maybe it wasn't the right time to kill this one, then. Maybe he should wait until he had time to talk to Mondo and convince him that he wasn't to be trusted.

Having made up his mind, he lifted the gecko's body with gentle gestures and merely kicked the turtle, sending him against the wall. Head first.

 _With my luck, it_ is _going to kill him,_ he grumbled inwardly. Well. If the universe wanted that one dead, who was he to complain?

A flash of green caught the turtle mid-air before he hit the wall.

It was another turtle, one he had never met. Slash growled and delicately put Mondo on the bench before running at the intruder, his arm outstretched, ready to flatten him and his brother against the wall…

Another flash, of silver this time, and Slash shouted in outrage as his oxygen mask fell on the floor.

Mondo's moan prevented him from going into a blind rage. His time was running out. His massive body probably needed more oxygen than the shorter, more slender turtle in front of him - and the priority was to rescue the boy… But his opponent had been moving without breathing for a longer time.

The other turtle was watching him, his unconscious brother still in his arms. Slash hesitated. How well could he fight with this dead weight, and without oxygen? Who would give up first?

"LEO!" somebody shouted, and Slash recognized Raphael's voice. His nemesis was so close, his whole body was aching to rush towards him and kill him with his bare hands…

Mondo moaned again. Slash was feeling the beginning of a headache. He was already moving slower. He needed to breathe… To breathe… Fresh air… Outside air…

Taking Mondo in his arms again, he burst out of the police station, eliciting excited shouts from the crowd of reporters. He ran through it, hitting and kicking whoever was in his path, until he reached the truck he had parked in a nearby street.

Time to leave the place.

* * *

Inside the police station, Leonardo and Raphael hurried through the hidden passageway and into the sewers, each carrying an unconscious brother on his back. Kurtzman had stayed inside, opening the windows to get rid of the sleeping gas and waiting for reinforcements, while reporters more courageous than the others rushed inside the police station in search for answers.

"And now what?" Raphael panted, catching his breath.

"To the lair," Leonardo gritted out after he had checked that Michelangelo wasn't hurt. "We should be safe there."

Raphael nodded grimly.

"I still have Don's security systems in place… And the infirmary is fully stocked." He caught Leonardo's inquiring glance and shrugged. "I needed a base."

Without another word, the two turtles began running towards their former home.


	18. Waking Up

Leonardo pulled the blanket covering Michelangelo's body closer to his brother's head. Donatello was resting in the bed nearby. None of them had woken up yet.

"How long will we have to wait?" Raphael grumbled, leaning against the wall of the lair's infirmary. "I swear, when I'll put my hands on Slash…"

"I'm no expert in sleeping gas, but we've only been there for ten minutes," Leonardo replied. "And they're both breathing normally. I say there is nothing to worry about."

Raphael snorted. "Right. Like you're not worrying right now."

Leonardo gave him a look. Raphael shrugged.

"Hey, I'm not blaming you." He offered him a wry smile. "In fact, I would be worried about _you_ if you didn't."

Leonardo placed Donatello's arm, which had slipped out of the covers and was hanging limply in the open and chill air, back on his owner's plastron.

"Why didn't you tell me about Slash?" he finally asked.

Raphael shrugged.

"And what good would it have done? I could handle him on my own."

Leonardo raised an eye ridge and Raphael sighed.

"At least I thought I could, until Mike got involved."

"Didn't he save your life?" Leonardo inquired, glancing at his brother with an amused smile.

Raphael grinned sheepishly. "Yes, I guess you could say that." His tone became more serious. "He has been missing you, you know."

Leonardo's eyes wandered on the shelves and walls of their infirmary. "He seemed to be doing fine."

Raphael sighed and moved from the wall to his brother, putting an arm on his shoulder. "Leo, you had your boring blah blah thingamagical skills to make sure he was fine."

"You mean spiritual skills." Leonardo gave his brother a deadpan look, feeling a tiny bit offended.

"Whatever." Raphael didn't look contrite at all. "My point is, you could check on him any time you wanted. He couldn't."

Leonardo pondered the words. "He never told me," he whispered.

Raphael threw up his hands. "Of course not. He wasn't going to tell you that he wanted you here, because apparently you had so much fun with Usagi and the others, and besides, he's supposed to be a mature adult - well, as mature as Mike can be, I guess."

His tone was mostly indignant, but to the trained ear, it also held a bit of hurt.

"Are you sure we are talking about Mike here?" Leonardo made sure that his question sounded neutral, and he didn't look directly at his brother - but from the corner of his eye, he could see his brother's grimace.

Raphael coughed. "I... Yes, of course. Who else?"

Leonardo didn't answer, sparing his brother's dignity. He wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation with him anyways. Not here, not now.

Luckily for both of them, Mikey stirred under his blanket and opened his eyes.

"Guys?" he moaned. "Guys, are you here?"

Then he registered Raphael's presence and narrowed his eyes, pointing an accusative finger at him.

"You! I have a bone to pick with you, Mister Raphael!"

Raphael gaped and gave Leonardo a quizzical glance. Leonardo shrugged and checked on Donatello, hoping that he would wake up soon.

* * *

"A muzzle! How could you?"

Michelangelo wasn't calming down. If anything, he was becoming angrier and angrier, throwing his arms up and pacing the small infirmary.

"If you let me talk…" Raphael tried.

"He's a teenager! Obviously he has been hurt before, and…"

"He's a prisoner and an accomplice of one of the most dangerous criminals that ever-"

"And then, he looked at me with his big sad eyes, and I could tell he was a sweet, lovable boy…"

"We couldn't let him escape!" Raphael finally shouted. Then he realized that Mondo had, in fact, escaped, and he sighed heavily. "At least that was the plan."

Finally intrigued enough to stop ranting, Michelangelo shut up and put his hands on his hips, waiting for his brother to expand.

"Slash ran away with him," Leonardo answered instead. "He's the one who used the sleeping gas."

"Uh." Michelangelo looked quizzically around him, as if he noticed the familiar room for the first time. "Is that why we are in the lair?"

"Yes, genius," Raphael retorted.

"I'm not talking to you, you traitor," Michelangelo said, glaring at his brother.

"Mike, I'm sure Raph did his best," Leonardo interjected. It was definitely not the time to bicker. "It wasn't his choice."

Raphael gave Leonardo a grateful look, but Michelangelo crossed his arms.

"I see. You're small fry. Fine, I'll go see the big guy, then."

"Mike…" Raphael began threateningly. He was cut short when Donatello moaned.

"Don?" the three other turtles exclaimed.

"Guys… Guys, we have to do something!" Donatello startled awake, panicking.

"About Slash? Well, it's planned, Don," Raphael said slowly, obviously worried about his brother's sanity.

"No, not about Slash! I remember," Donatello explained. "The scanner! The data! The mutants! We have to warn the police!"

"I am the police here, so go on?" Raphael offered generously.

"Small. Fry," Michelangelo muttered, ignoring his brother's glare.

"They're going to irradiate them!" Donatello jumped out of bed, and Leonardo caught hold of his shoulders before he could fall on the floor. "We have to warn the hospitals, too!"

"Don, calm yourself!" Leonardo said firmly. "We'll warn everybody you want, but please explain to us what the matter is."

Donatello sat down on his bed and took a deep breath.

"I remember what happened. It all began when I couldn't stop working…"

* * *

"You were skipping lunch?" Michelangelo exclaimed, extremely concerned. "Dude, I knew you weren't taking good care of yourself!"

Donatello had told his brothers everything he remembered, and he was already moving to the living room to reconnect his old computer. His brothers followed him.

"That's what worries you the most?" Raphael shook his head.

"Raph, do we have access to the Internet?" Donatello asked, ignoring Michelangelo's remark.

"Yes. It's still working, bro. I kept everything like you told me to."

"Thank you, Raph. You're wonderful."

Raphael smiled with great satisfaction.

"At least, _somebody_ is fully appreciating me."

"I'm still not talking to you," Michelangelo muttered.

"Are you going to warn Rockwell?" Leonardo asked. "Be careful not to put him in danger."

"I have to take the risk." Donatello bit his lip. "He doesn't remember either. I have to contact him!"

He switched on the computer and looked anxiously on the screen.

"He's online," he whispered. "Finally, something is going well."

After a few minutes of furious typing on the keyboard, Donatello leaned back with a relieved sigh.

"The scanners haven't been tested yet," he explained. "It's not too late."

* * *

Rockwell closed the window on his computer screen with a heavy heart.

How had Donatello escaped? You would have thought that making him prisoner inside a submarine would have efficiently prevented him from interfering, but apparently it hadn't been enough.

He had been a little worried when his brothers had called - obviously the text he had sent with Donatello's phone hadn't been enough to reassure them - but he had been fairly certain that they would never find out where he was.

He had been wrong.

Rockwell remembered the day when Donatello had run to him, his features tense with worry and eager to get his help to find out who was the traitor.

Oblivious to the fact that he was talking to said traitor.

Rockwell hadn't meant to use the sleeping gas on him just yet, but he had no other choice. Donatello was too clever, he would have figured everything out. It was only a matter of time.

The scientist rubbed his eyes, exhausted.

He hated mutants since the day they had killed his mother. They were a plague on humanity, and they should be dealt with as such.

He hadn't expected to become friends with one of them. Donatello was one of the most brilliant minds and gentlest souls he had ever encountered.

_The exception, not the rule._

Nonetheless, he had managed to convince his father to spare his life. He would have been safe under the seas, until he was the last mutant on Earth…

However, he wasn't going to look back and change his plans now. Not when he was so close to achieving them. How ironic that Donatello had unintentionally helped him…

 _I'm sorry, Don,_ he thought. _I tried to protect you._


	19. Back on Track

"Alright, guys, let's review the situation."

The four turtles were gathered in the living room of their old lair, for something looking very much like a war council. For the past hour, they had contacted various people in the hope of learning as much as they could, and make sure that the mutants and humans of New York weren't in danger yet.

Leonardo turned to Raphael.

"Raph? Any sign of Slash or Mondo?"

Raphael shook his head.

"Nope. I've asked Angel to keep her eyes and ears open. I have a map keeping track of every location Slash has been seen in during the past months, maybe we could check them."

Leonardo nodded. "He's probably not going to make such a mistake, but it's worth a try. Don, what about the scanners? Was Rockwell able to do anything?"

Donatello nodded, his expression showing his deep relief.

"Yes. He has double-checked the scanners that were going to be sent to New York City's hospitals and clinics, and they're now safe. He's investigating to try to learn who changed the designs."

"It's good to hear. He's buying us time. Mike?"

"I'm happy to inform you that I'm not the only one on the front covers anymore," Michelangelo said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sharing this honor with Slash and Mondo now, although they're not named." He turned to glare at Raphael. "The journalists are picturing Slash as a hero rescuing his brother from the bad treatments the police has been inflicting upon him."

Raphael snorted, disgusted.

"A hero? That's all we needed."

"At least this time they're saying half the truth."

Raphael threw up his arms.

"Mike, for the last time, we didn't treat him badly."

"One word: muzzle."

Leonardo decided to interfere before they lost themselves in their bickering. As soon as he began talking, his brothers turned their attention back on him.

"Finding Slash and Mondo is our priority," he stated. "Raph, could you please show us that map?"

Raphael nodded and went to retrieve the desired item. He unrolled it and his brothers leaned forward to take a better look at it.

"I have marked all the locations where Slash has been seen in, as much as his previous hiding places," Raphael said, pointing at circles and arrows. "As you can see, the locations are random. There is no pattern."

Donatello crossed his fingers under his chin, attracting his brothers' attention.

"Unless," Raphael went on with hope, "Don here can discern one."

"Don?" Leonardo asked, acknowledging the gleam in Donatello's eyes. "Does it inspire you anything?"

Donatello tapped his fingers together.

"First, I have to tell you that true randomness is very hard to achieve. Especially by computers. When we ask them to choose something at random, it's in fact determined by the choice of a…"

Michelangelo tried and failed to repress a smile. It felt so good to hear his brother rambling again. In front of him, Raphael rolled his eyes.

"Maybe you could save that lesson for another time," Leonardo suggested tactfully, stifling a fond chuckle. "About the map?"

Donatello coughed.

"I guess you're right. My point is, these locations are too random. It has to be calculated. Give me a few seconds so I can test a few common seeds…"

Donatello picked up a pen and paper and began his calculations under the watchful eye of the three others.

"Seeds?" Michelangelo whispered to Raphael, finally forgetting that he was supposed to be mad at him.

Raphael shrugged. "If Don thinks that gardening can help…"

"Let him focus, guys," Leonardo shushed them.

Donatello pretended not to have heard anything and bit his tongue to fight the urge to resume his lesson.

"There," he finally said, pointing at a particular location on the map. "If I had to guess, I would say he's going to be in this area."

"Impressive, Don. Thank you. Now let's wait for the night," Leonardo decided. "It'll fall in three hours. In the meantime, I have the perfect occupation for us."

"Four pizzas say he wants us to train," Raphael whispered wryly to the others.

"I'm not taking that bet," Donatello answered in the same tone.

Leonardo crossed his arms.

"Training, indeed. Guys, we'll probably have to fight together very soon, and I would feel better if I knew we weren't too rusty. Both as individuals and as a team."

Raphael rubbed his hands.

"I'll show you who's rusty."

Michelangelo groaned.

* * *

Michelangelo stifled a nostalgic sigh as he entered the dojo. He hadn't expected to come back here so soon. Had it only been a week since his night of insomnia?

This time was way better. This time, he wasn't alone.

He glanced at his brothers. It was the perfect opportunity to show them - and especially _Leo_ \- that he was still in top shape. Taking his nunchucks in hand, he began swirling them.

Donatello went to the rack where he had left his bo staff and took it with a grin.

"My good old staff. I must say I missed it."

"Are you sure you still know how to use it?" Raphael teased him.

"Hmm…" Donatello pretended to think about the question, then he nimbly swirled his staff in an attempt to trip Raphael, who jumped just in time to avoid falling.

"I'll take that as a yes." Raphael grinned. "Welcome back to the world of the ninja."

"Okay, guys, let's begin easy," Leonardo said. "Let's go through some basic warm-up first, and…"

"Ouch!"

Michelangelo massaged his shoulder. He had tried to perform an advanced move - something he had done countless times before - but it required the use of very specific muscles, muscles he hadn't used in months. And they protested against this treatment.

_Come on, I could have done this in my sleep. I know I could._

Maybe he should try again? But what if he failed? He didn't want his brothers to witness it.

"Mike?" Leonardo called, concerned. "What's the problem?"

"Nothing. Nothing, I just… I just need some rest. I'll be back in a minute!"

Michelangelo forced a smile and crab walked to the dojo entrance, hiding his hurting shoulder from Leonardo's piercing gaze.

"We've only just begun," Raphael noticed.

"One minute and fifty-two seconds ago, to be precise," Donatello added.

"This was one intense minute and fifty-two seconds," Michelangelo replied before disappearing from his brothers' sight.

Leonardo, Raphael and Donatello shared a look.

"You two begin," Leonardo ordered them. "I'll talk to Mike."

As his brother left after Michelangelo, Raphael sighed.

"Well, nobody said it was going to be easy."

"It looks like you're going to be my partner." Donatello went through stretching exercises. "Please keep in mind that I haven't been training in months."

Raphael grinned. "I'll go easy on you, don't worry." He shook his head. "Your work must have been really absorbing, uh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. There is always something new to learn, the equipment is top-notch, and my colleagues are great people. Or at least that's what I thought. I hope Rockwell finds what happened." Donatello sighed. "Until last week, it had been a dream come true." His gaze seemed to look past Raphael into a world of science and progress.

Raphael bit his lip. It was a world he had no place into, a world where his brother could ramble all he wanted and everybody would understand what he meant. A world his brother had been happy in.

"I'm glad you had the opportunity to live it, Don," he said sincerely, hoping he was managing to hide every trace of sadness. "You deserve it."

* * *

Leonardo found Michelangelo sitting in a corner of the sewers system not far away from the lair, staring at a network of pipes. One of them had a leakage and drop after drop of water splashed into a small puddle. The blue-masked turtle slowly approached his brother without trying to hide his arrival.

"Hey, Mike."

"Hey, Leo." Michelangelo didn't look away from the pipes and the puddle.

Leonardo sat down next to him, not saying anything. Michelangelo managed to stay silent for two entire minutes before giving in.

"Shouldn't you be with the others?" he asked nervously. "It's not that I mind having you by, but I'm sure Raph and Don could make good use of your help. Especially Don."

"What about you?" Leonardo asked gently.

Michelangelo shrugged.

"On second thought, I'm not feeling up to training. I think I might still feel a little dizzy from the sleeping gas and everything..."

He hoped it was not too lame an excuse.

"Mikey."

Michelangelo deflated. Apparently it was.

The words left his mouth before he had the time to think about it.

"I didn't train. At all," he confessed, avoiding Leonardo's gaze. "I thought it wouldn't matter, but now I think I've forgotten some of my favorite moves." He took a deep breath. "And you know, I haven't been able to use the astral plane in weeks - I was forgetting that, too. I was busy becoming important to people and making their lives easier, or so I thought…"

He tried hard to keep his voice from breaking.

"It looks like I was wrong. Sorry if I disappointed everyone."

_Sorry if I disappointed you._

"Mike." Leonardo put a hand on his brother's forearm, and felt him shiver under the touch. "I think you're asking too much from yourself."

Michelangelo gave his brother an incredulous glance. He hadn't been expecting these words.

"Seriously," Leonardo insisted. "I never expected you to be as busy as you were and still keep training as much as you used to. It's normal that you can't do all your moves anymore - but you didn't forget them. You just need to remind your body of the kind of effort it takes."

"But what if it doesn't remember?" Michelangelo asked in a small voice.

"It will, Mike, I'm sure of it." Leonardo gave a little squeeze to Michelangelo's forearm. "Remember that time when you became the Battle Nexus Champion?"

Michelangelo smiled dreamily. "How could I ever forget? I got to rub it in your faces for months."

"Your statue is still there to remind everyone of how great a fighter you are." Leonardo nudged his brother, a wry smile on his face. "See? You've always been cut out for fame."

Michelangelo stuck out his tongue at him.

"Your current career path isn't less important than being a ninja," Leonardo went on, his tone serious again. "I'm sorry you're having a hard time right now, but people are going to realize they're wrong. That, or they don't deserve you."

Michelangelo sighed and leaned his shell against his brother's side.

"Is your shoulder okay?" Leonardo wanted to know.

Michelangelo closed his eyes. He should have known that his brother would notice. "Yes. I just made a wrong move." He shifted his head so it would rest more comfortably on his brother's shoulder. "I really thought you would be disappointed," he whispered.

"Why would I be?" Leonardo shook his head, amazed. "Mike, you don't have to prove anything to me, you know that, right?"

"Of course I know that," Michelangelo answered.

And if his voice was shaking a little, it might as well have been due to a draft.


	20. Appointments

Leonardo landed on his feet in a last graceful arc and sheathed his katana, giving the signal for the end of the training session.

"It's time, guys."

Michelangelo threw up his arms and tossed his nunchucks before collapsing on his shell, arms and legs stretched out. He caught his weapons between his toes before they could fall on the floor.

"Finally! I thought this would never end."

For his brothers, the acting was obvious. He had enjoyed sparring with them as much as they had.

Donatello stretched his arms.

"I must say it went better than I thought."

Raphael grinned. "Once a ninja, always a ninja."

Michelangelo pointed an accusative finger at Raphael.

"You went easy on him," he complained.

If possible, Raphael's grin grew even wider.

"On you too, you know."

Michelangelo sighed like the drama turtle he had decided to be, and Leonardo smiled. For all the bittersweet memories that their old dojo brought back to him, it felt great to train with his brothers again. To his relief, their teamwork wasn't as rusty as it could have been - it was almost as if no time had passed at all, and they could still guess each other's moves in a heartbeat.

Of course, he would still take all the necessary precautions in the mission to come.

"Remember, we don't engage the enemy before we've had a chance to assess the situation."

"Unless we don't have a choice," Raphael inserted, a little too gleefully for Leo's taste.

"Unless I told you so," he corrected, looking his brother in the eye. "No rash decision tonight."

"What are you worried about?" Raphael swirled his sai. "I never make rash decisions."

On the ground, Michelangelo lifted a finger.

"Ha! And I don't like pizza."

Next to him, Donatello put his bo staff on his back. Its familiar weight made him smile. He might not have his usual equipment with him, but the old weapon had never let him down.

"I'm curious to see if I'm right," he said. "There is a one per cent chance that Slash won't be at the location I pointed."

"So ninety-nine per cent chances he will. That's more than good enough for me, Don." Leonardo had gambled their lives on much lower chances more than once. He turned to Michelangelo. "Whenever you're ready, Mike."

Michelangelo jumped on his feet and grinned.

"Let's do this."

* * *

Mondo looked down at Slash. The giant turtle was a slow climber. He resisted the urge to tease him - not everybody could be a nimble gecko able to use his hands to stick at the walls and windows.

Neither the smashing wind nor the cold of the night could bring his spirits down. Freedom! He could move up and down, left and right, without hitting the wall of a prison cell. He could fill his lungs with fresh air, air that he hadn't already breathed for hours.

He could stick out his tongue all he wanted, capture flies and savor them. Aaah, the taste of a fly! Only glow-worms could surpass it.

Mondo wasn't exactly sure what had happened - one moment he was talking to Michelangelo, his idol, and the next he was waking up next to Slash. His head hurt when he tried to remember.

Michelangelo must have brought him good luck. Mondo remembered that the turtle had promised him he would help him get out of his prison. Maybe he had been the one calling Slash?

It wasn't an entirely satisfying explanation - after all, Slash had almost killed him - but Mondo was convinced that his partner hadn't intended it. The policemen were wrong. Slash couldn't be the monster they had described - not when he had rescued him from prison again.

Raphael was another story. The gecko didn't know how to feel about him. Granted, he was a cop, but he also was Michelangelo's brother. Mondo knew Slash hated him - either because he had chosen the wrong side or because he kept getting in his way. He wondered if he could convince Slash to leave him in peace.

"We're almost there," Slash panted.

So far, the giant turtle had been rather silent. He had told Mondo that he had come back for him, and left it at that. Mondo hadn't pushed him. He would have time to ask him later - for now, he focused on the sheer pleasure of physical exercise.

Besides, he was going to meet the chief of their group - a mutant Slash hadn't said a lot about, except that he was not to be underestimated. Maybe Mondo would finally learn exactly what the mysterious activities of his partner were. He had only come with him once, the night he had met Michelangelo and the girl.

It was going to be awesome.

* * *

Bishop strode into Stockman's control room, eager to hear the news his scientist had hinted about in his call, a few minutes ago.

"Did you find them?"

Stockman slid, allowing him to better watch the screen.

"They've just left their lair."

"Where are they going?"

Stockman mimicked a shrug.

"I don't know. I can't spy them inside the lair, not without Donatello's knowledge."

"I don't pay you to tell me you can't spy." Stockman's tone was ice-cold.

"Considering that you've decided to deduce the price of your submarine from my salary, we can fairly say that I'm not paid anymore," Stockman retorted, more than a little salty. It wasn't the first time they had this conversation. "And you're still demanding the utmost secrecy, which means that my genius can't be acknowledged by the world."

"It will be one day," Bishop retorted dryly. "If you manage to give me these supersoldiers I've been asking for, instead of failing every time."

Stockman shook the tentacles of his robotic body to express his displeasure.

"I warned you about the risks," he accused. "You're the one who decided to keep going. If I was at liberty to take these decisions…"

"Which you're not." Bishop ignored Stockman's offended expression. "Can you tell me where they will exit the sewers?"

"Yes. I have sensors in the sewers for this exact purpose. Nothing too close from the lair, because…"

"Then we'll follow them," Stockman cut him off.

" _We_?" Stockman choked.

"This time, you're coming with me. I don't want you to miss all the fun." Bishop crossed his fingers under his chin. "I have a feeling we will find Slash tonight. Then we'll be able to resume our experiments on him."

"Do you ever learn?" Stockman muttered, more to himself than to Bishop. "No, of course not. It would be too good to be true."

* * *

Mondo looked up. Their boss, the chief of the Humans Are Too Entitled group, was nothing like he had expected. He wondered briefly if it was some sort of joke, but Slash was bowing to him with the greatest respect, and besides, his sense of humor had never been developed enough for pranks.

Mondo did his best to imitate his partner.

"So you're Mondo?"

"Yes, uh… Sir. It's an honor to meet you, Sir."

The mutant flew closer to take a better look at him. Mondo shivered. Now that he could see the details of his mutation, he wasn't tempted to laugh at him anymore. The bat wing, the horns at improbable places…

The mutant clapped his beak.

"I have kept an eye on you for some time now," he said, not unkind. "This tongue of yours… it's prodigious."

Mondo smiled, feeling more at ease. So this was someone that didn't consider his tongue a danger, but a prodigious appendix? He decided that he liked him.

"I have a special tongue, myself," the boss went on. Opening his beak, he stick it out. It was divided in several parts, each of them being like a tongue in itself, and was at least twenty times his size long. It looked a little like a flower, and the saliva on it was fuming.

Mondo's eyes widened. At his side, Slash took a few steps back.

"This is so cool!" The gecko smiled wildly. "You're one of a kind, dude, uh, Boss… or Sir?"

Slash inhaled sharply, but the mutant in front of him merely swallowed his tongue again, apparently pleased by his reaction.

"You may call me Pete," he offered. "I'm glad Slash was able to free you, boy." He gave what could only be interpreted as a threatening glance to the giant turtle.

"Yes, Boss," Slash answered. "But…" He hesitated. "I had to leave the turtles behind."

Mondo tilted his head. The turtles? What about them?

Their boss - Pete - flew away again, perching on a beam of the roof.

"I don't know where they are." Frustration was obvious in his tone. "They must be hiding in the sewers, like they used to. It's not a place I fit in."

Mondo nodded gravely. He could see why.

"What about the next part of our plan?" Slash asked. "Won't they try to interfere?"

The boss smoothed his feathers. "It's a certainty. They feel the need to protect humans, for a reason I can't quite grasp."

Mondo suddenly felt uneasy. What was that plan they were talking about?

Pete must have noticed it, because he turned his tiny head to him. "Humans don't care about us mutants," he whispered. "I was double-mutated. The first time gave me this tongue, and the second time its poison, along with my intelligence. In exchange for constant pain." His eyes became glassy. "As I've learned later, in both cases, one man was to blame for it."

"Bishop." Slash's whisper was full of hatred. "Mutants are but a means to an end for him."

"He's not the only one to think that way." Pete's tone was full of mourning. "I've watched them for years. They attack and kill each other, and not for food. They mistreat themselves. And mutants mean even less to them. We need to put an end to their supremacy… by killing them if necessary."

"Kill them?" Mondo took a step back. "Even those who… who did nothing to us?"

"Collateral damage, as they would put it themselves," Pete spat. "It won't keep me awake at night."

"But…but…" Mondo sputtered.

"Didn't they hurt you?" Pete cooed. "Didn't they imprison you, only because you were a mutant and away from your home? A home you were expelled from." He turned his voice to a mere whisper. "And the mutants helping them aren't any better. Didn't they imprison you, again, although you had just saved their lives? Didn't they muzzle you, even when they called you their friend?"

"No… I…" Mondo hung his head.

"You deserve better, boy. Way better."

* * *

"How much further?" Michelangelo complained. "We've been climbing for hours!"

"We've been climbing for twenty-two minutes. And according to my calculations, we still have at least ten minutes to go before reaching the end." Donatello looked down. "They chose a pretty high building."

The four turtles were holding onto bumps and lumps of the outside walls to make their way to the top, avoiding the glass areas and their lack of grips. Leonardo led the way, keeping an eye both on the upper part of the building to detect any potential threat and on his brothers. He was confident that the wind covered their voices, and thus let them talk.

"Does this mean we'll have to listen to Mike complaining for another ten minutes?" Raphael inquired. "If so, I might as well take action now."

"Where is your compassion, Raphie? I'm carrying a heavy weight. I'm tired."

Raphael stopped climbing for a second to raise an eye ridge at his brother.

"What are you carrying? Your nunchucks? I'm pretty sure Don's bo staff is heavier than them, and you don't hear him complaining."

"My shell, bro. I'm carrying my shell. It's weighing tons."

Donatello chuckled, and Raphael shook his head.

"I knew I should have kept quiet," he muttered.

"Hush!" Leonardo narrowed his eyes. They weren't quite at the top, but his senses were tingling, warning him that real danger began now.

"We should have taken the stairs. Or better, the elevator." Michelangelo whispered, too low for the others to hear.

Or so he thought. When Leonardo turned to glare at him, he offered him a sheepish smile. He could almost hear his brother explain again that there were humans in the building, and they didn't want to attract attention.

 _I do,_ he brooded over. _Most of the time._ But granted, maybe not tonight.

When they finally arrived at the top, Leonardo signaled them to stop. If they focused, they could almost hear the sounds of a conversation inside the highest level of the building - windows must be open. The building was shaped like an inverted V, and the top room was smaller than Michelangelo's flat.

Raphael immediately recognized Slash's voice and tried to restrain himself from jumping inside to pin his nemesis to the ground. Tonight was the night. He wouldn't let him threaten his city anymore. Why didn't Leonardo give them the signal to attack?

Donatello moved closer to Leonardo to look inside the room. There was no light, but the moon was almost full and he could discern two shapes discussing inside. One was a giant turtle and the other a slender form. _Slash and Mondo?_

Michelangelo tensed. He had recognized Mondo's voice. The gecko seemed upset, but it didn't sound like he was in immediate danger - more like he didn't approve of what he was hearing. What had his new friend gotten himself into?

Leonardo was listening intently. From his place, he could see Slash and Mondo discussing, apparently between themselves - but he had a feeling somebody was hidden in the shadows.

There was a rustling of feathers.

"Get them!" a voice shouted, coming from above.

"Inside!" Leonardo ordered, jumping through an opened window. He had unsheathed his katana before his feet touched the floor.

"I told you we might not have a choice." Raphael's eyes were gleaming.

"You!" Slash shouted. "This is too good to be true."

Raphael grabbed his sai, his teasing mood forgotten.

"It's payback time, Slash," he spat.

* * *

"Should we interfere?" Stockman asked. His drone was filming the scene at the top of the building in infrared light. They couldn't see the weapons, only the bodies; but from everyone's moves, it was clear that the fight was fierce.

Bishop crossed his hands under his chin. "No. We wait until the turtles deliver Slash to us, or they kill each other."

Stockman shrugged.

"As you wish. It's not as if I had nothing better to do with my time."

Bishop purposefully ignored him.

* * *

"Don, Mikey!" Leonardo circled around Slash so the mutant was sandwiched between him and Raphael. "Cover us!" He dodged Slash's fist, taking notice of the hole it left in the wall. Better not to lower his guard.

Raphael launched an attack, only for Slash to roar and run at him. He jumped above him and grabbed a beam, balancing his legs to choose an appropriate landing point: Slash's shell. From there, he could easily attack Slash's head. Slash, however, decided to roll on the floor, and Raphael had to jump out of the way before he got crushed. Leonardo grabbed him by the arm to help him keep his balance, and Raphael used the momentum to swirl around his brother and kick Slash's shoulder. The mutant roared.

"See, Leo?" Raphael avoided Slash's fist and spun around to kick him in the leg, adrenaline rushing in his veins. "You can find nice fights here too!"

Leonardo didn't answer, focusing on their enemy.

Behind them, Michelangelo looked around. He could only see Mondo, watching the display with his mouth wide open and apparently not willing to fanboy for once. "Who are we looking for?"

"Whoever gave the alert," Donatello answered. His bo staff at the ready, he circled around the room to keep track of the windows. They were too many to his taste, and all open.

Michelangelo shrugged and imitated him. He chose a window and gave a it fast glance before moving to the next one. A low hiss was his only cue that something was coming through the previous window, and he jumped just in time out of the way of a… a…

"A tongue? That's disgusting!" Michelangelo shouted. It was covered with saliva, which fumed as it hit the floor and left tiny holes. The owner of said tongue remained safely outside, out of sight.

"It's acid-like!" Donatello ran to his brother's side and pinned the tongue to the ground. "Probably poisonous, too. Be careful!"

"No need to tell me twice, bro!"

"Behind you!" Leonardo shouted as he ran across the room to slice a second tongue in half, before going back where he had come from.

The tongue hissed and fumed before growing back. Leonardo swore.

"What's this thing?" Michelangelo decided that he was allowed to freak out a little. "Seriously, what's this thing?"

"His name is Pete," Mondo mumbled, obviously under shock.

"Pete? You're on first name terms with a bunch of tongues?" Michelangelo shook his head. "Dude, I'm not judging, but you have the weirdest company."

Donatello released the first tongue to hit the second, hard. It retreated while a pained cry was heard outside. But not for long.

"There is a third tongue!" Michelangelo shouted.

"And a fourth!" Donatello added.

Leonardo quickly assessed the situation. His brothers needed help.

"Raph."

Raphael ground his teeth. "Give me one more minute. I can finish him on my own."

Slash kicked him in the plastron, sending him against a table. Leonardo distracted his attention before he could seriously hurt him.

"Ew, ew, ew," Michelangelo spat as nunchucks and bo staff together hit the four tongues. So far, they had managed to avoid the saliva - but Leonardo knew it was only a matter of time.

The leader narrowed his eyes as a plan took shape in his mind. If they could kill two birds with one stone…

"Raph!" he shouted, pointing at Slash, then at the tongues, with his katana.

Raphael nodded and stood up, attacking Slash from the side. The giant turtle was mad enough not to pay attention to his surroundings apart from Raphael and Leonardo's presence, and he ran to him at high speed.

"Don, Mike!" Leonardo shouted. "Out of the way!"

"Easier said than do- oh, okay," Michelangelo answered.

Donatello used his bo staff as a support to jump above Slash, reaching for Raphael's hand to take him out of the way while Michelangelo plunged to the side. Slash collapsed with the tongues and crashed through the window with a harrowing cry.

"Slash!" Mondo shouted, hurrying after him.

The four turtles ran to the window.

Under the moon, Slash was falling with the four tongues and their owner, a small bird.

A pigeon, to be precise.

"A _pigeon_? That thing was a _pigeon_?" Michelangelo's voice was incredulous. "Leo! A pigeon tried to kill me!"

"No," Mondo whispered, already climbing down the building at high speed.

"We'll never catch him," Donatello stated. "His fingers are like suckers."

Below, the pigeon - _Pete -_ disentangled his tongues from Slash's shell and swallowed them, an almost normal bird once again. He flew away, watching the scene at a safe distance.

Leonardo sheathed his weapons, pondering his choices. With all the noise and damage they had done, the humans below had probably taken cover in their offices.

"Unless we take the stairs. Let's go!"

Michelangelo put his nunchucks back in his belt. "Finally. I love this plan!"

* * *

On street level, Bishop and Stockman watched in disbelief as Slash crashed a few meters from their vehicle.

"Does it count as turning in?" Stockman wondered.

Bishop was already standing up and running outside. Slash was unconscious but still breathing - good. He wanted him alive.

"Don't touch him!" a small voice shouted, trembling a little, and Bishop looked at the teenage gecko who had just tumbled down the building.

A few seconds later, the four turtles came out of the same building.

"I believe he's mine," Bishop said, raising an eyebrow at Leonardo. "We had an agreement."

Feeling disgusted, the leader nodded.

Mondo's eyes widened.

"You what?"

He turned to Michelangelo, who took a deep breath.

"Mondo…"

"No, you… you what?"

Slash stirred and opened an eye. Seeing Bishop, he tried to stand up, but he was too weak.

"I told you they couldn't be trusted," he whispered to Mondo.

"Secure him," Bishop ordered to Stockman, and soon enough a plier came out of the vehicle to grab Slash's shell.

"You can't!" Mondo was desperate. Why would the turtles - why would _Michelangelo_ \- hand Slash over to a man who clearly wasn't from the police?

Suddenly, four tongues attacked the plier and the vehicle, while a shower of poisonous saliva sprayed Bishop. The man watched his clothes begin to burn with an eyebrow raised. Then the tongues grabbed Slash's shell delicately and flew away with him a few feet before depositing him on the floor. Mondo hurried to his side.

"I think he's out of saliva," Donatello whispered. "Fascinating."

Bishop's vehicle landed in front of the turtles, preventing them from following.

Bishop, now reduced to his own robotic body - at least most of it - turned to them.

"It seems like you'll have to capture him again," he said with great dignity for someone looking as battered as he did.

"We kept our word," Leonardo replied calmly. "You're the one who lost him. When we find him again, we'll hand him over to the police."

Stockman chose that moment to get out of his vehicle.

"I knew I should have stayed in my lab," he complained. Then he looked at Bishop and put two robotic tentacles on his hips. "I don't have that many new bodies for you, you know," he stated.

Bishop glared at him before looking back at the turtles, only to observe that they had disappeared. He clenched what was left of his fists before relaxing.

"Maybe it's for the best," he whispered.

"Excuse me, what?" Stockman had already been in the process of repairing their car, but he stopped to look at his employer.

"There is a mutant I didn't know about in this city, and he looks very interesting indeed," Bishop stated.

He looked Stockman in the eye.

"I want the bird."

Stockman sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*hand on heart* Your Honor, that mutant exists in the 2003 cartoon! He has maybe fifteen seconds of screen time at the end of the _Outbreak_ episode (season 4, episode 17). The name is 2012 cartoon inspired, though. *throws arms up* How could I have resisted?_


	21. On the Edge

None of the turtles felt like talking on their way home. They were mulling over the events of the night.

On the plus side, they had fulfilled their part of the bargain with Bishop and gained new information about a dangerous pigeon mutant.

On the minus side, Mondo probably felt betrayed and would never help them again, Slash was still on the loose, and said dangerous pigeon mutant was on the loose, too.

 _Pete,_ Michelangelo thought morosely. _Who named that thing Pete, seriously?_

He was trailing along his brothers, mourning his stillborn friendship with the gecko mutant. He hadn't had the time to explain anything, of course, but what could he have said anyways? That he would do everything it took to save one of his brothers, and if it made him a bad turtle, so be it?

He glanced at Donatello, who met his gaze with a curious expression, and he quickly smiled at him before putting an arm around his brother's shoulders.

Donatello reciprocated, happy to feel him close by. He hated the idea that his family had bargained with Bishop because of him - again. At least it seemed that they had managed to fulfill their promise without Slash ending up in Bishop's hands.

Leonardo, for his part, considered themselves lucky that nobody was hurt. For their first mission together since many, many months, he could have done without the poisonous mutant and his growing-back tongues. But if he was honest with himself, he had missed fighting alongside his brothers. It didn't feel right - it wasn't the safe life he had wished for them when they had parted ways - but the thrill of that dance… knowing that his brothers were there, ready to fight and help and protect each other, and not having to speak with them to know what they were thinking - their strength feeding his own, and vice-versa - oh, how he had missed it.

Even if it was only temporary and nothing was resolved yet - the other mutants had escaped, and would probably follow through with their plan, whatever it was.

Leonardo was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt somebody watching him, and he met Raphael's pensive gaze with an unwavering expression.

Raphael held his brother's gaze for a few seconds before looking away to hide his smile, punching him slightly in the arm. _It's great to have us back_ , he wanted to say, but he didn't dare to. Maybe it was too early, and the last thing he wanted was to hear Leonardo say that he would leave as soon as Slash was under arrest - by the police, this time.

Speaking of the police, he had to tell his chief about tonight's events. Pete's existence was major information. As soon as they had reached the relative privacy of the sewers, he turned to Leonardo.

"Give me your phone, Leo," he asked. "Kurtzman will want to know what happened."

Leonardo nodded and handed over the item. Raphael took a few steps forward to make his call.

"I should probably call Timothy too," Michelangelo said pensively. "He must be worrying."

"By the way, didn't you sign a contract of some sort?" Donatello tilted his head. "I'm surprised he doesn't complain more about your absence."

Michelangelo shrugged. "Oh, yes. I'm losing money as we speak. But I don't think he would want me to perform right now anyways, so I'll negotiate a refund later."

"You can call him as soon as Raph will be done," Leonardo said. "If you think it's a good idea to do so in the middle of the night."

Michelangelo winced. "Now that you're talking about it… maybe I'll wait until tomorrow morning."

"We really should buy new phones," Donatello interjected. "I could build them, of course, but it would take longer than improving a device that already exists."

Michelangelo nodded. "Of course. Use my bank account, I've plenty enough. And feel free to add extra - whatever you need, it's on me."

Donatello had money of his own, although probably less than Michelangelo, but he wasn't going to turn his brother's offer down.

"Alright. I'll add a few other items, then. There is this little something I want to make for Raph..."

Michelangelo looked at him with intense curiosity. "What is it?"

Donatello grinned. "It's a surprise."

He clapped his mouth shut as Raphael came back to them.

"Kurtzman wants to see me." Raphael shrugged. "He barely listened to my tale. See you later, guys."

With a wave of his hand, he began running towards the police station.

* * *

When he arrived at the lair, Michelangelo collapsed on the couch with a heavy sigh. Donatello had ordered phones and managed to obtain a delivery in the following half an hour - amazing what money could do. The delivery woman had asked no question when he had told her that the package would have to be placed next to a manhole cover. He had gone to retrieve it, while Leonardo had disappeared inside the dojo.

Michelangelo checked the social media, carefully avoiding the articles about Mondo and Slash - he didn't want to think about the teenage gecko mutant right now, he didn't want to, he didn't want to - in order to see if they had calmed down. No such luck, but maybe there were more articles defending him than there had been yesterday. Had Timothy paid a few journalists to turn the tide? He felt guilty. He really should give his manager some news.

The best he could do was wait and see. Something he had always hated. Standing up, he decided to check on Leonardo - was his brother meditating? Or training, maybe? Of course, they had just fought an epic battle with a giant mutant turtle and a poisonous pigeon with disgusting tongues - but you never knew. Maybe it hadn't been enough for Leonardo to call it a night.

To Michelangelo's surprise, Leonardo wasn't in the dojo. Yet he had been sure to see him take that direction… Frowning, he headed for the kitchen. Maybe his brother had wanted a midnight snack.

Leonardo wasn't there either, and when Michelangelo had also checked the rooms and bathroom, he began to worry a little. Had his brother left without telling him anything? _No, he wouldn't have,_ he reasoned. _Especially not right now._

He went back to the dojo in case his brother had mysteriously reappeared. No such luck, but he was hearing noises coming from…

Splinter's room?

Tiptoeing, Michelangelo came closer to the place and slid the doors, his heart beating faster. He hadn't been inside since their father had left, and even before, they rarely entered their father's quarters.

Leonardo was inside, dusting the shelves. Splinter had tidied his things up before leaving, throwing away everything that would never be used again, but it still left a lot of trinkets and souvenirs.

Michelangelo crossed his arms. His brother glanced at him before carrying on with his task, his gestures precise and delicate as if he was holding his weapons and not a rag.

"Cleaning up, really? Do you have nothing better to do?" Michelangelo teased, half-sincerely and half to hide his own nostalgia. To be fair, there was a lot of dust - Raphael must have avoided the room.

Leonardo shrugged.

"It helps me think."

"About how to find a pigeon in New York? Good luck with that." Michelangelo's eyes fell on a particular item, and he took the medal he had won at the Battle Nexus. On a whim, he put it around his neck.

"About that, and other things." Leonardo's voice sounded distant.

"Oh, no problem. Thinking is such a great activity. Although I would love to know what's going through someone's head when they think that _cleaning_ can help with that. Seriously."

Leonardo threw a rag at his face. "What about you find out yourself?" he said playfully - and it was almost impossible to tell that he was forcing the words past the lump in his throat.

Michelangelo caught the cloth. "The Battle Nexus Champion is at your service, Sir. But I'm warning you, this isn't going to be a silent activity."

Leonardo shrugged. "As long as you do the talking," he muttered.

"No problem. You're dealing with an expert."

Leonardo grinned - finally. Winking at him, Michelangelo set to work. Starting with his medal.

"Have I already told you how I won the Battle Nexus Tournament? I don't remember."

Leonardo shook his head, probably to indicate that Michelangelo was incorrigible. It wasn't the way Michelangelo himself chose to interpret the gesture, though.

"No? Oh, then I have to! It all began when…"

As Michelangelo went on and on, Leonardo rolled his eyes - but the grin never left his face.

* * *

Raphael sneaked inside his own police station. It was the middle of the night, and few people were still there. The station was in the process of being repaired, and the secret entrance had been blocked with a wooden panel - he hesitated to kick it before deciding on a more reasonable displacement of it.

He didn't knock before opening the detective's door, not wanting to attract his other colleagues' attention. Kurtzman was standing in front of his shelves, an open file in his hands.

"You wanted to see me, Detective?"

The man spun around and nodded briskly.

"Yes, Raphael. After your brother Donatello told me about his imprisonment, I made some research..."

Raphael took a chair without being asked to. Kurtzman sat on the opposite side of his desk and pushed the file towards him.

"I found the submarine's owner. It belongs to…"

"Belonged," Raphael corrected, taking the file and reading it. "To a certain 'RS'? Who's that?"

Kurtzman leaned towards him. "It's a code name for a Russian magnate."

Raphael raised an eye ridge. "And why would a Russian magnate kidnap my brother?"

Kurtzman sighed. "It hasn't been easy, but I've managed to find out that he has a son born in the USA. His wife emigrated there - or ex-wife, apparently." He bit his lip. "Raphael… His son's name is Rockwell."

Raphael's fingers twitched. "What name did you just say?"

"Rockwell," Kurtzman repeated. "Doctor Rockwell."

Raphael shook his head. Donatello's colleague? It made perfect sense, in a way - who else could so easily fool his brother than someone who was close to him - someone he trusted? He clenched his fists. Donatello was going to be devastated.

"Are you certain?" he asked. "My brother thinks highly of that man."

"Yes." Kurtzman sighed.

"Oh, Don," Raphael whispered. Then it occurred to him that Donatello had entrusted Rockwell with nothing less than the safety of every mutant in the country.

"The scanners," he said abruptly. "Rockwell said they were secure… but…"

Kurtzman nodded. "I've already warned the clinics and hospitals, along with Rockwell's research center so they can arrest him. No mutant will be harmed."

Raphael sighed in relief, before shaking his head. "But why?"

"I'm not sure. However, it looks like Rockwell's mother died in the mutant's outbreak."

"Revenge, then," Raphael muttered, his heart heavy. "And my brother got caught in the middle of it."

* * *

Mondo sat on the bed of their new hideout, an abandoned cave. It was barely more comfortable than the one he had in prison, but he hadn't known where to go when Pete had flown away, saying he had an important errand to run. That place would have to suffice. Slash was still recovering from the injuries caused by Pete's tongue, and he needed his rest.

Mondo couldn't believe that Michelangelo had betrayed him like that. Handing Slash over to that man…

Slash had told him about Bishop, about his recklessness and his use of mutants to realize his dream of a superhuman army.

Mondo sighed. They hadn't spoken again of killing humans, though, which he was grateful for. He didn't think he would ever be at ease with the thought.

A sudden pain in his head made him wince. He was having headaches since the battle.

"Are you alright, boy?"

Mondo forced a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Hmm." Slash seemed genuinely concerned. "You shouldn't have touched me. Pete's saliva was all over my body, and it's very poisonous."

Mondo couldn't help shivering. "I'm fine, really."

"I would still feel better if we checked you up."

"I don't think I can go to a hospital right now," Mondo protested.

Slash winked. "It's not a problem. Last week, I had the opportunity to steal one of these brand new scanners they were delivering to the hospitals, and I took it. It's in one of our best caches, not far from…" Slash's smile disappeared. "Not far from the drinking water treatment plant."

Mondo licked his lips with his tongue.

"You would know how to use it?"

Slash shrugged. "I have some medical knowledge. Courtesy of Bishop…and his henchman Stockman." He shook his head to dismiss the bad memories.

"And what about you?" Mondo wanted to know.

"I'm even tougher than I look." Slash sighed. "We'll check you up as soon as I'll be able to stand on my own, okay? And I think Pete will meet us there, anyways."

He didn't explain why, and Mondo didn't ask.

"Thanks, Slash."

"You're welcome, boy." Slash leaned backwards with a sigh. "You're welcome," he whispered, more to himself than to the teenager who had chosen to stay by his side.

Wondering if there was any way he could protect him from what Pete and himself would do afterwards. The boy had a heart of gold, even towards the cursed humans - and for the first time, Slash hoped he wouldn't have to break it.

* * *

Donatello was fiddling with his newly-acquired phones when Leonardo and Michelangelo left the dojo, dusty rags on their shoulders.

He immediately noticed that both his brothers looked more relaxed and rejoiced at the sight.

"Oh, do you have my new phone?" Michelangelo called, excited, and he delicately put his rag across Leonardo's shoulders before running to Donatello. Leonardo raised an eye ridge and headed for the bathroom.

"Of course." Donatello threw the phone at Michelangelo. "Catch."

"My baby," Michelangelo cooed. "Last generation, of course."

"Of course. Only the best is good enough for my brothers."

"I love your way of thinking, Don."

Donatello grinned before taking a more serious expression. "Did you guys talk about our next move?"

"Nope. We were talking about how great I am." Michelangelo stretched. "And we cleaned up every souvenir Sensei ever brought back from his travels. I'm exhausted."

Donatello tilted his head, thoughtful. 'You've been cleaning Splinter's room?"

"Yes." Michelangelo hesitated. "Don, when this will be over, do you think that… that we could go see him? Together? I mean, I know he won't be himself and all, but… if you're all with me…" He bit his lip.

Donatello watched him carefully. He knew neither Raphael nor Michelangelo had visited Splinter in the last months. He had, once, with Leonardo - and although his father was well looked after, he had barely recognized them and it had broken his heart.

But maybe they needed to do this, together.

"I'm sure it will be no problem, Mike," he answered softly.

Michelangelo gave him a shaky smile before changing the topic entirely.

"And don't forget, Don, you'll absolutely have to watch my new show. It's awesome, I promise you."

Donatello winked, relieved for the distraction. "I know. I registered the premiere - in high definition."

Michelangelo straightened up, excited. "You did?"

"Of course. Actually, I registered your following performances, too."

Michelangelo grinned, and soon they were discussing the subtle changes in Michelangelo's show from evening to evening, and how the lights could be a little more this or the sound a little more that.

Until Raphael came back to the lair.

From his brother's awkward stance, Donatello could immediately tell that something was wrong. For a while, Raphael just stood in front of him, not sure of how to break the news he obviously had to break, until Donatello put down his screwdriver and looked at him with a determined expression.

"Yes? What did Kurtzman say?"

"Don." Raphael took a deep breath. "We need to talk."

Donatello nodded, his mouth dry. "I'm listening."

* * *

Rockwell didn't wait for the security service to arrest him. He was monitoring the communications and intercepted Kurtzman's message - and although he was none too pleased with having to leave on emergency, he had a back-up plan.

That plan might be messier than the scanners' scheme, and they would easily trace it back to him - but it was also quicker, and besides, why should he have cared, now that his cover was blown?

Once he would have executed it, he would flee to his father's country. His plan wouldn't impact every mutant in the country, sadly - only those from New York.

Well, it was a start.

All he had to do was sneaking inside a drinking water treatment plant, and pour a little something in the water. It would be innocuous to the humans who would drink it, of course - but mutants… Mutants were another matter entirely.

* * *

Donatello looked at his brother, in shock.

"No. No, Raph. You must be mistaken. Rockwell would never…"

Raphael put a soothing hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Don," he said softly, when what he really wanted to do was shout his outrage at the unfairness of it all.

"He would never… Not to me. He's my… He's my friend!"

Both Leonardo, who of course had wanted to listen to Raphael's tale, and Michelangelo grimaced.

Raphael refrained from stating the obvious, namely that Rockwell was no friend worthy of the name.

Donatello closed his eyes. As much as he didn't want it to be true, his mind was already starting to puzzle the pieces together. Everything made sense now. Rockwell had felt threatened and gotten rid of him by… by… sending him in a submarine?

"Why didn't he kill me instead?" he whispered.

"Maybe he does care about you, in a madman's way," Michelangelo inserted timidly.

Donatello didn't answer. Elbows on his desk, he pressed the palm of his hands against his forehead.

Everything they had shared was a lie.

Their complicity…

Their concern for the well-being of humans and mutants alike…

His dreams that what he did mattered. That he was making things better, for everybody…

How many of his other projects had Rockwell fiddled with? Had he contributed to endanger people instead of helping them?

"I can't believe I trusted him!" Donatello exclaimed, slamming his fists against the desk.

His brothers winced at the unexpected outburst.

Donatello leaned backwards, ashamed.

"Guys, I'll need some time to process this," he tried to explain. "It's… it's disheartening. I…"

Raphael, Michelangelo and Leonardo exchanged meaningful glances.

"Hey, Don," Raphael said, delicately putting his fingers around Donatello's wrists.

Leonardo moved behind him to put a hand on his shoulder, while Michelangelo knelt on the ground to embrace him around the middle.

"Whatever happens, please remember that you're not alone."


	22. In Unknown Waters

Donatello was taking the news of Rockwell's betrayal as gracefully as he could, but it had been a heavy blow. He spent most of the rest of the night and the next day thinking back about everything he had ever done with Rockwell. Had his colleague messed with more than one project?

His brothers made sure to stay available if he wanted to talk, which he was grateful for.

When he was certain that nothing else he had contributed to would endanger people, Donatello began thinking about reprogramming the scanners, so they could fulfill their initial purpose. Raphael reported the list of hospitals and clinics that had them. However, something was bothering Donatello.

"There are fifteen scanners. You only gave me fourteen locations."

Raphael raised an eye ridge. "I told you everything I knew. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"

"I can count up to fifteen, Raph, I assure you." Donatello's tone held the slightest hint of amusement.

Raphael threw up his hands. "Alright, alright. My bad. Then we're missing one."

Leonardo, who had been listening to the conversation, frowned. "Is it possible that it was stolen?"

Raphael shrugged. "Maybe. New York shelters all kinds of thieves, really."

"Then we have to find it. It's too dangerous to be left in the wrong hands." Leonardo tilted his head towards Donatello.

"No problem, Leo." Donatello typed something on his new phone. "It has tracers inside."

"Do you put tracers everywhere?" Michelangelo came closer, looking interested.

"An old habit." Donatello grinned sheepishly. "Hmm.." He suddenly frowned.

"What is it?" the three others asked in unison.

"It's close to the drinking water plant… Weird."

"This can't be good," Leonardo muttered.

Raphael clapped. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

* * *

Mondo felt uneasy as he passed through the hole in the fence, following Slash in the restricted area of the drinking water plant.

The giant turtle was limping a little, but it didn't prevent him from going at a brisk pace.

Mondo wondered why on Earth Slash would have a cache there, but maybe it was less frequented, and thus more practical.

The main building was looming over them. They headed for a small warehouse depot close to it. The door was locked with a padlock, and Mondo couldn't help feeling a tiny bit amused when Slash produced a key and carefully opened it. The padlock was smaller than Slash's thumb.

"Here you go," Slash said. "The light switch is on the left, but wait until I close the door behind us. Even if I deactivated the alarms, there could still be night watchmen."

Mondo nodded. He was about to enter when he heard the ruffling of feathers above his head. Looking up, he saw Pete landing on the roof of the depot.

One of the pigeon's tongues was coiled around a glass vial. Mondo didn't miss the way Slash tensed.

"Already?" he whispered to their chief.

Pete caught hold of the vial with a talon before answering. "They have scheduled the change of alarm and access codes at midnight. It's essential that our mission is over by then." Noticing Mondo's confusion, he went on. "I spy a lot, and it's not uncommon for me to learn the codes, making it easier for you to come and go as you please. But I have to see humans use them. The main building isn't easily accessible without the proper codes - it's a drinking water plant, after all." Pete smirked. It wasn't a pleasant sight. "What would happen if somebody with evil intentions came inside, right?"

He tapped the vial with his beak.

Mondo shivered, and Slash put a hand on his shoulder.

"I would like to check up on Mondo first," he said. "He's not feeling too well."

Pete gazed at Mondo, who bowed his head.

"Alright." Pete nodded. "I'll wait for you here. I don't like confined spaces."

* * *

Leonardo watched the drinking water plant with a critical eye.

"Is it the place?"

Donatello glanced at his phone.

"Yes."

"It's creepy," Michelangelo whispered. "Does our water really come from here?"

"Affirmative, Mike," Donatello answered. "I don't find it that creepy. It's just a plant. I wonder what chemicals they use?"

Michelangelo's eyes widened.

"Chemicals? In drinking water?"

"Well, it's very likely," Donatello replied. "It's part of what makes it drinkable, you know."

Michelangelo grimaced. "I think I will stick to sodas from now on."

"Actually, apart from an insane amount of sugar, sodas also contain..."

Michelangelo quickly put his hand on Donatello's mouth.

"I really, really don't want to know, Don."

"Guys!" Raphael had gone away to explore the area, and he had found the hole in the fence. "This way!"

Leonardo frowned. "I don't like this. We might not be alone."

"The thieves who stole the scanner, do you think?" Donatello asked calmly.

"Only one way to know. Be careful, guys."

The others nodded, and soon the four turtles were sneaking inside the restricted area.

* * *

Rockwell expected the security system of the plant to be easy to hack - at least for someone with his skills - but he was surprised to discover that somebody had already deactivated the cameras and alarms.

He paused, wondering what that meant. Maybe he should abort his mission... But he wouldn't have another chance. His absence couldn't have gone unnoticed.

He had chosen a side entrance, and as far as he could tell in the dark, everything was peaceful in the area. With a shrug, he slipped inside the main building.

It wouldn't take him long anyways.

* * *

Mondo didn't know what he had been expecting, but the bed-like item with metallic cradles waiting for him in the warehouse depot didn't feel very threatening. He sighed in relief.

"How does it work?"

Slash rubbed his head.

"Well..."

"I thought you knew how to use it," Mondo said suspiciously.

Slash searched a crate. "With the user's guide, I do."

Avoiding Mondo's glare, he quickly proceeded to read it.

"So, all you have to do is lie down. Then I'll activate it with this switch here -" he pointed at a green switch on the side of the item - "and it'll take care of the rest." He tapped the user's guide with a finger. "Artificial intelligence and so on. A great piece of technology."

It was clear that he had no idea what he was talking about, but Mondo refrained from saying it aloud. With a nod, he slid under the cradles until he was lying comfortably on his back.

"Here we go." Slash smiled as his hand approached the switch.

Mondo breathed deeply, wondering how long it would last. Hopeful only a few seconds…

Outside, Pete screamed.

A scream that was quickly followed by fierce battle noises.

Slash's hand moved away from the switch as its owner ran to the door, alarmed.

"The turtles?" he exclaimed, his eyes reduced to slits. "Excellent. I've been dying for a rematch!"

Mondo's heart ached at the statement.

"Stay here," Slash instructed him. "I won't be long."

With a shout, he left the room, leaving Mondo alone on his scanner.

It didn't last long, however, as the entrance door soon burst open again. A turtle was projected inside and landed against the scanner with a thud.

Mondo watched the newcomer in utter disbelief.

"Mike?"

Michelangelo swiftly stood up. His eyes widened as he realized who was there, and why.

"Mondo! Get out of here!"

* * *

For the umpteenth time this year, Stockman reconsidered his career choices. Bishop was hovering over him, impatient to learn more about the mutant pigeon who had attacked them the day before. The fact he had just been given a new android body didn't seem to prevent him from wanting to fight back. He was truly obsessed.

"So small, so agile, and yet so dangerous," he was whispering. "Can you imagine what I could achieve if I managed to reproduce his abilities in my laboratory?"

"You mean, in _my_ laboratory," Stockman corrected him.

Bishop didn't retort. Instead, he leaned towards the screen displaying New York City's map, trying to figure out where his pigeon could be. "Did you find something?"

"No. Not since the last time you asked."

"Fine."

Stockman's moment of peace didn't even last a whole minute.

"And now?"

Stockman selected his most annoyed voice to answer. "For the love of... Of course I still don't have a lead!"

As if on cue, the screen beeped.

"What's this?" Bishop asked.

Stockman watched it in disbelief. "A lead." He sighed heavily. His boss would never leave him in peace now. "There is trouble at the drinking water plant."

Bishop's fists clenched.

"Then you know where we need to be."

* * *

Mondo looked at Michelangelo in utter disbelief.

"What are you doing here?"

"The scanner," Michelangelo said desperately. "It's trapped! Please don't stay here!"

Mondo shook his head violently.

"Why should I trust you? Maybe you're here to hand me over to Bishop, too."

His bitter tone broke Michelangelo's heart.

"Mondo, I'm sorry. I made a choice to help my brother, and…"

Mondo cut him off. "I don't want to know, Mike. Please, just leave me alone."

Michelangelo sighed.

"Alright. In that case…"

He examined the scanner with interest for a while, taking notice of the place where the control panel probably was. It was Donatello's tech, after all, and it had a sense of familiarity. Nodding, he then proceeded to use his nunchucks to methodically destroy the poor thing, making sure not to hurt Mondo in the process.

It was a delicate job, but he had mastered the required skills years ago.

"There," he finally said. "And, Mondo… I'm sorry. I wish we could have stayed friends."

Turning around, Michelangelo left the room, leaving behind him a baffled gecko.

* * *

Outside, the battle was fierce. Pete and Slash combined were giving a hard time to Michelangelo's brothers. The fighters had moved closer to the main building, and Michelangelo ran towards them.

"Where have you been?" Raphael asked. He was busy blocking Slash's fists with his crossed sai.

"Making sure Mondo was safe." Michelangelo slipped between Leonardo and Donatello, jumping here and there to avoid Pete's dive attacks. "By the way, Don, I think you'll have more to do than just reprogramming this scanner. Sorry."

"No problem, Mike," Donatello answered. "Thank you."

Leonardo was only half-listening to their conversation. Now that Michelangelo was with them again, he could put his new plan in action.

It was very simple, really. Pete, who was able to fly, had way too much freedom of movement in the open. They needed to level the battlefield. And thus…

"Take cover!" Leonardo shouted, pointing at a nearby door whose lock he had managed to pick earlier, while Raphael and Donatello had covered him.

Obeying their leader's command, the three others moved to the door, and soon disappeared inside.

"Slash!" Pete shouted, furious. "Follow them!"

He tossed him the vial he hadn't dropped.

"And finish the job," he said threateningly.

Slash nodded.

* * *

Rockwell had reached the basin he was looking for - a settling tank to help purifying the water - when he heard the shouts. He straightened up, alarmed. What was happening?

To his dismay, the shouts were coming closer. There were footsteps too, and… the clatter of swords?

Rockwell didn't believe his eyes when one, then two, then three turtles entered the room on the other side of the basin. He didn't believe his eyes when a fourth turtle, way bigger and uglier than the others, followed them. And he certainly didn't believe his eyes when a fifth turtle came after him, a turtle he knew very well…

"Donatello?"

* * *

Donatello stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the call.

"Rockwell?" he whispered.

Time seemed to stop as their gazes met.

Then Rockwell's hand slowly moved to his belt, took a bottle and opened it.

"NO!" Donatello ran as fast as he could, but the basin was large and before he had the chance to reach him, Rockwell had already emptied the bottle inside the water.

Donatello's heart sank. He was too late. The water would flow to the next basin, and then into the pipes, and then… and then…

Who would drink it first? And what was going to happen?

Rockwell's liquid had a nasty green color, and Donatello expected to see it flow to the exit in a ribbon of death, but it was staying where it was. Glancing at the opposite side of the room - not so far from the place where his brothers were still fighting Slash - he understood why.

There were gates.

Closed gates.

Which meant that the water was, for now, trapped inside this basin - there was still hope.

Rockwell had noticed the gates too, and he was running towards the wheel commanding them.

Donatello ran after him again, but this time Rockwell pulled a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at him, his expression clearly exasperated.

"Oh come on," Donatello moaned as he stopped.

"And now, you'll let me open these gates and leave," Rockwell ordered. "Put your stick down, please."

"Rockwell," Donatello said mournfully. "Have you lost your mind? And," he added as an afterthought, this is a bo staff, not a stick. Let's stay accurate, please."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Leonardo watching them, ready to intervene. Rockwell wasn't looking at him, and maybe Leonardo could throw a shuriken at the gun without him noticing - but Donatello was confident he could go through to Rockwell.

He was his problem to solve.

With a subtle move of his head, he let Leonardo know that he wanted to handle the situation himself, and his brother nodded before going back to his fight.

"I didn't know you were a warrior, Donatello," Rockwell taunted his opponent.

Donatello shrugged. "Why?" he asked, certain that Rockwell would understand.

"My mother," his former friend whispered. "She should never have died. Mutants are wild and dangerous."

"But you never intended to kill me." Donatello's eyes were shining with a conviction he was far from feeling.

Rockwell's hands shook slightly, but his grip on the gun remained firm.

"You were different."

"I'm not."

"That's what I see," Rockwell answered bitterly.

Donatello decided that it would be wise to change the topic. "A submarine, really?"

Rockwell shrugged. "It was my father's submarine. He wasn't happy that you sank it."

"Brothers." Donatello very slowly, very carefully threw up his hands to show his resignation. "Tell me, though. You really wanted me to be the only mutant in the world?"

Rockwell winced. "In time, I would have healed you. I would have made you human again."

"I don't need to be healed," Donatello whispered. "And I never was human to begin with."

At that precise moment, there was a loud splash as Slash was thrown into the basin. The vial he was still carrying shattered against the edge. Rockwell turned slightly to watch it, his scientific curiosity taking over - what kind of chemical was inside that vial? What would the mixing of it with his own chemicals produce?

Donatello resisted his own scientific curiosity and took advantage of Rockwell's distraction to disarm him. The gun slid a few meters away from them, and Rockwell lunged to recover it - not seeing that he was walking inside a new puddle of water created by Slash's fall into the basin.

With a cry, he lost his balance and fell over the edge.

* * *

"No!" Donatello shouted, extending his bo staff so Rockwell could grab it - he remembered that the scientist didn't know how to swim.

But the hands that caught his staff couldn't be human. They were too shaggy for that.

Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo had arrived close to him, and Donatello noticed that Slash hadn't reappeared. What was more, he was nowhere to be seen. It was strange - the basin wasn't that deep.

Donatello pulled on his bo staff to help the creature get out of the water. It was dressed like Rockwell, except it was…

"A monkey?" Michelangelo shook his head. "Don, I think I'll never drink water again. It's way too dangerous."

"Their chemicals must have reacted together, creating a mutagen," Donatello stated. "Impressive."

"What have you done to me?" the monkey shrieked in Rockwell's voice. His furry arms grabbed his own face in a desperate attempt to feel his familiar features, in vain.

Donatello watched him with deep sadness.

"You did that to yourself."

"No! I…" Rockwell looked horrified. "I can't be a mutant! No!"

Turning around, he ran away from them.

Raphael put an arm around Donatello's shoulders.

"What are you going to do now, Don?"

"To him? Nothing. Let him leave. Now I have to figure out a way to empty this basin in the plant's trash, so to speak, so nobody drinks this water."

"Please do it, Don," Leonardo said. "In the meantime, I think we should see what Pete is up to."

"What about Slash?" Michelangelo asked, rubbing his arms. "He sure gave us a hard time."

"Maybe he dissolved," Raphael suggested. "Good riddance."

"Mondo will be heartbroken," Michelangelo whispered. "He really liked him."

"Well, he was the only one." Raphael shrugged.

* * *

Everything was calm and quiet in the night as Leonardo and Michelangelo left the building - Raphael had stayed with Donatello in case anything else happened.

"Is it a trap?" Michelangelo whispered, trying to catch sight of a dangerous mutant pigeon.

Leonardo explored the area for a while.

"I don't think so," he said, picking up a small dart. "Or at least not for us."

He put it in his belt for later inspection by Donatello.

"I have a feeling that Bishop found his mutant after all."

Michelangelo headed for the warehouse depot where he had left Mondo and the remnants of Donatello's scanner. "Mondo has disappeared too!" he shouted, upset. "Do you think Bishop also captured him?" He ran to Leonardo again. "We can't let him there! We have to rescue him!"

Leonardo was about to answer when somebody talked in a small voice.

"Really? You really mean that?"

Both turtles spun to watch a teenage mutant gecko approaching.

"Mondo! You're alright!" Michelangelo beamed, then noticed that Mondo was holding something in his arms. He leaned forward to better look at it.

It was a tiny turtle.

"Who's that?" he asked.

Mondo held the small animal tighter. "It's Slash, I think."

Both Leonardo and Michelangelo gaped. The tiny turtle tried to chew on Mondo's shirt, and the gecko stroked his head gently.

"Slash?" Michelangelo choked. "Uh. Raph isn't going to believe this."

"He won't hurt anyone anymore," Mondo said. "And I'll take good care of him. Unless you want to arrest me again?"

Leonardo shook his head.

"Goodbye, Mondo," Michelangelo whispered, understanding that the gecko mutant wanted nothing more than to get away from this place - and from them.

"Goodbye, Mike," Mondo answered, his voice sad but less defiant than it had been a minute ago. He even bowed his head stiffly before turning around and taking his leave.

Leonardo and Michelangelo watched as Mondo disappeared.

"What a night," Leonardo sighed.

He felt his two other brothers approach, and turned around as they left the building.

"Task complete," Donatello said. "What about you?"

"Slash's problem is settled and Pete is now Bishop's problem," Michelangelo summed up. "I say it's time to go home."

"I say you're right." Donatello leaned on his bo staff, wondering whether he would cross paths with Rockwell again.

Raphael stretched. "In any case, great fight, guys! Of course, I was the one to defeat Slash in the end, but…"

"Ha!" Michelangelo nudged him. "You were lucky, that's all."

Raphael grinned, grabbing Michelangelo by the neck. "I'll show you who's lucky."

Michelangelo pretended to be offended and playfully fought back under the amused gazes of Donatello and Leonardo.

The night was still young, and now that he thought of it, he knew a pizza restaurant that was still open…

And he had his three brothers by his side.

Not a bad night after all.

* * *

In the vehicle that was bringing him back to his current lair, Bishop stroked the head of the pigeon asleep on his lap. He couldn't believe how easy it had been - the pigeon hadn't been paying attention to them at all.

"You and I are going to do great things," he whispered.


	23. Departure

Michelangelo sneaked inside his own apartment. He didn't want to be late for his meeting with Timothy - his manager had been quite insistent that it was important.

It had been a busy week since the events at the drinking water plant. First, Donatello had offered his help in dealing with the Internet articles smearing Michelangelo's name. Michelangelo had been doubtful at first, because he knew that if the websites became suddenly inaccessible, it would be highly suspicious and the focus of everyone's attention. But Donatello had smiled and shaken his head, saying that he had a much better plan in mind.

And indeed, he had.

Donatello hadn't removed the articles themselves, he had removed the adds attached to them, effectively cutting the media's main source of money. After a while trying to get them back, they had shrugged it off and removed the article themselves. They had carefully avoided giving the true reason behind their choice, of course - people didn't like to be reminded that they weren't entertained for free, after all.

The fact was that social media were now discussing other topics, and the voices of Michelangelo's hardcore fans could be heard again. Which meant it was the perfect time for a comeback.

This was what Timothy wanted to discuss today. And Michelangelo was going to use his mad persuasion skills to tell him that he wasn't going to.

At least not for the time being.

* * *

"Don, what are you doing?" Raphael asked as he entered the lair to see his brother still at his desk. "You're supposed to get ready. We're leaving as soon as Mike comes back, remember?"

Donatello put down the soldering iron he had been using and quickly hid the object he had been working on.

"Raph? I thought you were still working."

Raphael shook his head. "No, Kurtzman gave me the end of the afternoon. He said I deserved it."

"Speaking of which, I'm surprised he didn't ask more questions when we told him that Slash had been dealt with."

Raphael shrugged. "Heh, he trusts me. And he probably has other information sources, too." He threw up his hands. "I still can't believe that Slash has become a tiny turtle. My nemesis! What a shame! And Mike even said he was cute, can you imagine that?" With a last sigh, he pointed a finger at Donatello. "But don't change the topic. Aren't you supposed to be packing?"

Donatello grinned sheepishly.

"I don't have a lot to pack. Besides, I wanted to finish this."

"This?" Raphael came closer to see what his brother had been working on for the past few days, and Donatello clasped his hands in anticipation.

"When your vacation period will be over and you go back to work, I want you to be better protected," he said seriously.

Raphael raised an eye ridge.

"This is why," Donatello went on, "I made you this." With a grin, he took his gift and presented it to Raph.

Raphael watched it with a hint of skepticism.

"An umbrella? Uh, thanks, Don."

"Not any umbrella," Donatello refuted, still grinning. "It's able to withstand the strength of a building collapsing."

" _That_ umbrella?" Raphael said, sounding more interested.

"Not to mention it has a food and water supply and can fire flares. And," Donatello added with a wink, "when coupled to the Shell Cycle, it can make the Shell Cycle fly. So, what do you say?"

Raphael's eyes gleamed.

"Don, you're just the turtle," he said with a grin, taking the umbrella. "You know I have to test it on the spot, right?"

Donatello chuckled. "And what about packing?"

Raphael shook his head. "Who needs packing when flying Shell Cycles are on the agenda? See you later, Don!"

With an enthusiastic wave of his hand, he set off for the garage. Donatello watched him leave with a smile.

"I hope you're happy of what you've done," an amused voice said behind him.

Donatello turned around to smile at Leonardo.

"I'm sure he'll be responsible and avoid flying over old ladies," he answered in the same tone.

Leonardo smiled back at him.

"Did you tell him it was this close to be pink? If you hadn't caught Mike before he had the time to use his paint can…"

Donatello chuckled. "No, I stand for family peace." His expression became more serious. "Any news from Bishop?"

"No." Leonardo sighed. "I hope it's a good sign."

"And…" Donatello abruptly cut himself off.

"And no news from Rockwell, either," Leonardo said softly. "Speaking of which, Don, are you sure you want to resign from your job?"

Donatello nodded grimly.

"There are too many memories attached to it," he simply said.

Leonardo nodded. "I understand." He put an arm on his brother's shoulder. "Whatever you decide to do next, Don, I'll support you."

"Thanks, Leo." Donatello smiled. "I appreciate that."

* * *

Timothy watched his star with bewilderment.

"Mike, you can't leave now! We have a golden opportunity to put you back in the spotlight - and people are waiting for that, maybe not as many as there could have been, but still enough so it's going to be a success! And you need to make an announcement and promote your new show - I've already planned it, it's going to be a mix of your best moments, and…"

Michelangelo slowly shook his head.

"It will have to wait, Tim. I'm going on a trip with my brothers, and it's not negotiable. Don't worry, I'll be back in a month."

"A month?" If possible, Timothy looked even more appalled. "Mike, you can't be away for so long!"

"It's important to me." Michelangelo took a deep breath. "Tell the press… tell them everything you want. That I'm resting, that I'm taking a vacation, that I'm out of the city, whatever. You'll see, it'll make them even more curious to see me on stage again."

"You're asking a lot from me," Timothy muttered.

Michelangelo smiled. "I know you can do this, Tim. You're the best."

* * *

Their travel had been meticulously planned. Leonardo was going to show his brothers around his favorite places, including Usagi's world, then they would go back to Japan to visit the Ancient One and maybe also Karai. Leonardo had told them to travel light, which didn't prevent Michelangelo to put everything he could inside his backpack. He swore to his brothers that he had only taken what was strictly necessary to a civilized turtle - and haughtily ignored Raphael's remark that maybe a video-game console wasn't the most useful of items in a wild land.

Donatello, Michelangelo and even Raphael were excited to learn more about their brother's whereabouts - and Leonardo couldn't help feeling moved by their enthusiasm.

But there was one stop they had to make first.

* * *

Michelangelo stayed as close as possible to his brothers when they exited the Battle Nexus portal. The Daimyo himself was waiting for them, but the conversation was lost to Michelangelo - although he was sure he must have been asked questions and given answers.

There was only one thing - or more appropriately, one person - on his mind.

He heard the name Splinter and forced himself to focus on what the Daimyo was saying.

"Sometimes the Ancient One visits him. But you have to realize that his state has worsened. He's staying in his room most of the time now, although he still likes to rest in the gardens."

"If it's possible, we would like to see him right now," Leonardo asked, his throat dry.

"Of course."

They were guided through beautiful corridors and hallways, including the one with Michelangelo and Splinter's statues, and the sun was shining, too - the air smelled of flowers, birds were singing - but Michelangelo couldn't have cared less.

Finally, they arrived in front of a beautifully carved door, and their guide left them. Leonardo knocked on the door before carefully entering.

An old, frail rat was sitting in an armchair, a blanket on his lap.

"Master Splinter?" Leonardo called softly.

Michelangelo was glad he didn't have to do the talking - for once in his life, no words came to his mind.

The rat slowly turned his head to look at them, surprise showing on his features.

The Daimyo had told them he had been warned of their arrival, though. Maybe he had forgotten time.

"Who… who are you?" the rat, Splinter - his father - asked, and Michelangelo's heart broke.

* * *

They didn't stay long. Splinter was wearing out quickly, and having the visit of four people at the same time didn't help with that.

From time to time, he remembered them - Michelangelo hadn't tried to hide his tears when he had called him his son again - but most of the time, he seemed to believe they were strangers nice enough to visit an old rat.

After they left, it took them a long time to stop staring off in the distance.

* * *

The next morning, they were awoken early by a healer, who told them very gently and very solemnly that they were now orphans.

As if he had finally decided that he could rest in peace, Splinter had passed away in the night.

* * *

The burial was simple but heartwarming. Old friends and more recent ones came to pay their respects, memories were shared and tears mixed with laughter.

It was death, and it was life - and they had each other.

Then they resumed their travel, one step at a time.

* * *

_One month later_

"Home sweet home!" Raphael exclaimed. "Finally!" He collapsed on the couch of the lair.

"Didn't you like the jungle, Raphie?" Michelangelo asked with a grin.

"The view was gorgeous," Donatello interjected.

"Too many bugs. Nothing like a good old fashioned city to make a turtle happy."

"There were no bugs in the mountains," Michelangelo remarked with a smirk.

Raphael lifted a finger. "Too high. Not enough oxygen."

"Is there anything that found favor in your eyes, Raph?" Leonardo asked, deeply amused.

"Hmm…" Raphael pretended to think hard. "The company was nice," he admitted.

"You bet it was." Michelangelo sat on the back of the couch for the pleasure to put his feet on Raphael's plastron.

Raphael pulled said feet and Michelangelo landed on the floor with an offended cry.

"So… what now?" Donatello asked pensively, immediately stopping his brothers' banter.

"We move on with our lives," Leonardo said softly. "As our father would have wanted us to."

There was a silence in the room.

"Buuut…" Michelangelo broke it. "What does it mean, exactly?"

"It means that tomorrow, I'll be back to work." Raphael punched the couch with a grin. "The thugs of New York better behave, or else…"

"I have a few ideas," Donatello said. "I need to think about them a bit more before I make my decision, though."

"And I'll stage my comeback." Michelangelo shook his head. "But come on, guys, that wasn't what my question was about." He turned to the only turtle who hadn't answered yet.

"Leo? What does it mean?"

Leonardo watched his brothers. Not only Michelangelo, but also Donatello and Raphael were eagerly waiting for his answer.

"It depends. What do you want it to mean?"


	24. Epilogue

_A few weeks later_

Michelangelo bowed to the cheering crowd. Once again, his one-turtle-show was a huge success.

He was a little surprised, considering the recent events, but more people than he had thought hadn't believed everything they had read. The silent majority, as they said.

It renewed his faith in humanity.

With a final bow and a backward somersault, he disappeared from stage.

And waited. One second, two seconds, three -

"Not bad, not bad. But you were better yesterday."

Michelangelo turned around and grinned at his brother Raphael. He and Donatello were standing right next to the exit door.

"That's because you were too busy digesting this huge pizza you ate at my restaurant to pay attention to the show. How was it, already?" He tilted his head. "The best you ever tasted?"

"One of the best," Raphael corrected him with a smirk. "Don't swell your head."

Michelangelo stuck his tongue out at him before turning to his other brother.

"What did you think, Don?"

Donatello cracked his knuckles. "I think the lights still need some adjustments." He raised his head to a shadow in the ceiling. "Leo, do I have the time?"

The shadow jumped down.

"Not if we want to patrol _and_ take a training run tonight."

"Tomorrow, then. After my meeting with April."

Raphael crossed his arms. "So, that's decided? You're starting a company together?"

Donatello nodded. "Yes. April loved the idea, and I _know_ I can trust her."

"The beginning of O'Neil Tech," Michelangelo whispered. "And we're witnessing it."

"We are privileged." Leonardo smiled and handed him his nunchucks.

Michelangelo grinned and put them in his belt.

When he had told Timothy that he was going to resume his career part-time, his manager had hit the roof.

When he had told him that he wasn't going to take his bodyguards with him everywhere anymore, Timothy had gone through said roof.

"That's not… that's not how things normally go," the poor man had stammered.

Michelangelo had waved a hand in dismissal. "Normalcy never applied to us," he had said, and it had been the end of it.

He had yet to tell him exactly what he was doing with his brothers every night. He was pretty sure that if he ever did, Timothy would have a heart attack.

As if there was anything wrong with fighting gangs, exploring hidden worlds and, on occasion, saving the planet.

Michelangelo retrieved his orange mask from the hidden pocket where he kept it and fastened it around his head, before beaming at his brothers.

"Guys, I'm ready." He winked. "It's ninja time!"

They grinned back and Leonardo gave the signal to depart.

As he set off running, Michelangelo had a hard time preventing himself from singing at the top of his voice to celebrate his happiness. For some reason, Leonardo didn't appreciate it when he did - something about stealth being of the essence and so on.

But this.

This was what he had always wanted.

**The End**

* * *

_"If you love something, let it go. If it doesn't come back to you, it was never meant to be._

_If it does, it is yours forever."_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this story is finally complete! Yay!
> 
> If you’re wondering, April will fully heal and become a happy mother. April and Donatello’s company will be extremely successful, of course - but you already knew that. Karai’s baby is born and it’s a girl. Angel is considering entering the police… although she’s not sure how lawful she can stay.  
> And Bishop too will be successful in his plans to protect humanity. He’ll be remembered as a hero… Good thing that at some point in the process, he’ll stop experimenting on mutants. Maybe his new favorite pet (who kind of hates him, it has to be said) helped in that.  
> Now it’s time to thank all of you, wonderful readers! And I’m eternally grateful to those of you who took the time to kudo, favorite or comment this story. You made my day each and every time.


End file.
